


Drops of Jupiter

by Aliyah Heart (alexoiknine)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Original Character(s), Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexoiknine/pseuds/Aliyah%20Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam Winchester know something is wrong with Castiel - and they need to know what.</p><p>*I -strongly- recommend not subscribing to the story. I have been having some bug issues with AO3 and I have failed to overcome it using a word-processor. So my normally happy-go-lucky editing lifestyle that would normally be 'save without posting' has become 'post without previewing' which means it's going to get ugly until it's no longer a WIP. You are forewarned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back in the Atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for up to 8x10 of Supernatural and possibly more as the story progresses, though it is sort of meant to be a divergence from 8x10's direction. I'll update tags and other information as I update the story; for now I'm just including what's relevant per chapter because I need to keep it flexible. Likely future warnings (besides more character names) will probably be character death and torture. 
> 
> I'm considering adding explicit content but it's not my normal style. I will update the warnings and labels as new things apply to stories, however, because this story actually belongs to a fandom where that would actually make sense. Explicit content will be marked in the chapter summary when it occurs.

Dean and Sam Winchester were suspicious of the behavior of their friend, Castiel. Immediately following the attempted rescue mission of one of his own - Samandriel - Castiel had killed him claiming self-defense. Samandriel was one of the few angels Dean and Sam had encountered that had not been out to force the angels' agenda on them, and he always seemed to have been one of Castiel's strongest supporters.

This change of events made little sense to them, and neither of them had managed to try to speak with Castiel before he had left, looking entirely unwell. Dean tried to speak to him, tried to hold his attention. But he couldn't prevent Castiel from thanking them for their service and taking off regardless of Dean and Sam's concern. In the moment of his disappearance, Dean felt as though his stomach had dropped to his feet.

Something was wrong with Castiel. Dean had known and feared it for a long time. He had shared his concerns with Sam, and had even tried to approach Cas about it once or twice himself. But it had been in his gut, in his heart, and while he never would have said it to anyone else, he had known this day was coming.

"Team Free Will" never had happy endings; Sam and Dean had both learned that so well over the years.

He and his brother Sam put up angel wards again for privacy, discussing the events of their friend, knowing he was not to be trusted. Dean knew the mission would probably be a long one, and tried to convince Sam that he could do this one on his own. Maybe one of them could actually be happy - and the idea that he and Sam maybe even deserved this was a breakthrough to him, something shining through the curtain that happened very rarely in the mind of Dean Winchester.

But Sam had decided to stay with Dean, for this. First, because Dean had acknowledged the idea of a life beyond the fighting and war. Second, because his brother almost directly said he could never be happy. Sam could leave the fighting, could move on with his life. He wanted to. But he couldn't leave Dean, not like that. So until this new situation was resolved - the resolution to end all resolutions - he decided he was going to jump in, completely.

For a while, they took on missions that reminded Sam more of the old times - before demons and angels had become a regular part of their hunting repertoire. Sam felt like he had been completely adjusted back into the old style and system of their tracking and hunting various creatures. From the times when it was still mostly ghosts, werewolves, and the relatively easy to kill things that scared people in the dark. Easy and simple mayhem instead of the convoluted politics of angels and demons.

Even as they were doing this, though, they were trying to come up with a game plan for helping Kevin Tran by recovering the remaining piece of the demon tablet, and trying to figure out how to help Cas - or even if they could. Unsure as to whether they should allow Cas to help them - or how much - and how trustworthy he was or wasn't with whatever was going on inside his head.

They couldn't hide from Cas at all times - sometimes he'd appear in the Impala, or randomly on their outings. But he never asked questions of Sam and Dean, and seemed more withdrawn than any point they had known him before, since his killing Samandriel. This seemed to cause Dean a lot of distress, and Sam wasn't sure why. He noticed the increase of Dean's discomfort at levels that seemed almost exponential. The pacing, the alcohol abuse, sleeplessness. How his face always seemed tense, his brow occasionally furrowing. It began to disrupt Sam's research of cases.

Eventually, Sam couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean, something's going on. You need to tell me."

He scowled at Sam and insisted a few more days that he was actually fine, insisting Sam needed to let it go. However, the next hunting trip Cas appeared for a brief period. The look on his face completely defeated, and he left, again, without warning. Sam looked over to Dean - and while Dean was good at trying to act unemotional, Sam knew Dean and his body language. Dean was scared, and it wasn't just because he was worried about some of Cas' recent behavior.

Later, in the privacy of a cabin unwatched by Cas, Sam was more persistent in getting the truth out of Dean. Eventually he wore down, telling him of Cas' suicidal ideation of the past few months. The desperation he had seen on Cas' face when wanting to save Samandriel. Dean looked at Sam helplessly. And Sam knew how that felt. Not in a way that compatible to Cas - but it actually wasn't all that different from the concerns he had about Dean, especially when Dean had basically told him to leave so at least one of them could be happy.

Knowing more about this development, Sam's research started to take a direction away from the more normal hunting missions to things more likely to be demon or angelic in nature. Places that might actually lead them to answers. There weren't many strong signs lately - nothing like burning bushes caused by angel screams, or freak weather storms accompanied by the disappearances of future prophets. Which led Sam back to the more classic venues of attracting demon or angel attention - to the aggravation of his brother.

"Summon and capture Crowley? _Again_? Sammy, that's suicide. You _know_ what happens if we tangle with Crowley again. He'd love to see our heads on sticks. And we're trying to steal the demon tablet from him, so we're _really_ not in his good graces."

"Dean, Crowley was torturing Samandriel. Maybe if we know what he found out we can figure out what's going on with Cas, too. All we know is something really big and political is going on, and that Cas might be a participant in it all. With or without his knowledge and consent," he added with Dean's look. They weren't exactly unfamiliar with angels using deception and misinformation on other angels and people in order to achieve their end goals.

"And you think we can trust _Crowley_?"

Sam gave him a hard look, challenging Dean's incredulous tone, challenging him for a better idea. But he knew Dean wanted - needed - to save Cas. Sam was surprised how much he actually felt the same way, even if he hated what his role had been in the past in the apocalypse debacle or what had happened afterward. Cas was their only remaining friend, the only one that shared a long history with them anymore. He'd grown on the two of them. And Dean had to know it was the best chance of getting any straight answers that might actually be used to help him. So Sam pressed on, pushing the point home.

"You _saw_ Cas, Dean. In the warehouse. By the car. You've known and said something was wrong with him since he first got back from purgatory. Crowley's the closest thing we're going to have to an objective third-party here. It sucks. But you know it's true."

Dean mulled it over, staring past Sam as he thought. Of course, Sam was right. He usually was. Dean rubbed his temples and let out a sigh.

"Okay. So Crowley it is. Again."

"We don't have to do it right now, Dean. We can take a few days, prepare things the right way." Sam shrugged. "We could maybe even use Cas' help."

Dean looked resigned. "I'm really not sure about that, Sam. If Cas _is_ a participant - willing or unwilling. Whatever's going on, whoever's behind it - I don't think they want us 'in the loop.'"

Sam mouth pursed slightly and his eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated what might or might not be risky with Cas. He didn't think it was realistic to contact Crowley without Cas helping them. And the more he thought about it, the more Sam thought they could probably get some help from Cas without blowing their goal or cover. "Cas has been helping us for the most part without a problem, though. Maybe if the exact details are obscured? I'm just saying - it could be worth a shot. I think if Cas didn't want to help us - if he was working against us on purpose - he probably would have made more noise about the sigils on our places so he can't intrude on us."

Dean looked a bit relieved. "That's true. I mean, he has to know they're up, but he hasn't said a thing."

"And he arranges meetings with us away from where we're staying instead of trying to visit us in our motels now." A lot of Cas' recent behavior seemed to involve being disinterested about their locations and activities. He seemed very indifferent to the sigils keeping him out of their quarters, which didn't make sense in a context of family - but might make sense if he was sharing some of their concerns. He didn't seem to know exactly what was wrong - or why. But Sam also knew that Cas cared about them. If Cas hadn't been taking the shut-out personally, he probably had come to the conclusion that the less he knew the better. Which made the pertinent question for Sam and Dean whether or not they could use his help in trapping and interrogating Crowley - or how much help they could get from Cas without potentially endangering him.

"I think it's possible," Sam said finally, and Dean looked at him again, ready and waiting to listen. "We're going to need a few days and some coordinating with Kevin Tran and Charlie Bradbury, but I think we can do it."

"Great," Dean said, and put on his best face for taking on a challenge. "Do we all get together for a party or stealth mode?"

"Oh, stealth mode, definitely stealth mode. Especially for Kevin Tran - we don't want to go handing off the prophet back to Crowley."

The decision was made, and they both knew this was potentially some of the most important work of their hunting careers. Dean called for pizza and grabbed a beer before settling down across from Sam at the motel table as they began making plans and discreetly sending messages with Charlie and Kevin. And this would continue over the next few days, trying to make sure they could safely contact and plan with them in person. 


	2. Act Like Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Bradbury, Kevin Tran, Dean and Sam Winchester begin to plan how to most safely take the information they want from Crowley, wary of Castiel and any involvement he might pose.

Charlie had her headphones on, and sat, left leg crossed over the right with her foot and fingers lightly tapping to the beat of the music playing. She sat alone in the café, waiting impatiently for the Winchester brothers. Sam and Dean hadn't contacted her after the whole leviathan event, and they hadn't contacted her much after their last expedition where she had ended up involved, either. She had figured, much like last time, they mostly would be trying to forget about each other - probably best for the safety of everyone involved. But in spite of their weird relationship, Charlie felt strangely attached to the two of them. They hadn't known each other long, but the short periods of time where they had known each other it had been pretty intense.

Though maybe not if they were much later. Charlie looked at her watch and signed with boredom, going up to buy one last cup of coffee. She was not a sedentary person by nature and this was far too much quiet, too much still, for her liking. If they weren't hear by the time she finished this one, she was out. She didn't hold it against them - she knew they had a pretty weird lifestyle. It was just a matter of sanity. 

Dean Winchester, when he'd talked to her over the phone several times arranging this meeting, sounded slightly drunk. Sometimes people had those days, obviously, but in Dean Winchester it had set off some internal alarms for her. He'd wanted her to meet the two of them in a bar, and she'd declined and opted for a café instead, as much as she was regretting it now. Charlie Bradbury had known a few too many alcoholics, and she'd be damned if she was going to enable anyone.

She thought about it while ordering and paying for her drink, and waited for it to be prepared. Of course, Charlie had first worked on hacking into Sam's computer to see if she could figure out what was going on. After all, the more she knew the better - and besides, if it was important enough to need serious security, it'd probably be to their benefit if she could tell them their stuff was easy to crack. Getting into his computer had been easy, but she hadn't found anything interesting on it in particular - porn, some research, but nothing that seemed particularly dangerous. Whatever they were trying to talk to her about, they apparently had wanted to really keep it private badly enough that they hadn't gone digital with their communication or research whenever possible. Good for them. But it made Charlie a bit frustrated - there wasn't much in life she hadn't been able to get to with her skills, not in this day and age.

The barista smiled at Charlie and she smiled back as her drink was handed to her over the counter. Charlie sat back down at her table, and started looking for some books to download from the internet. Initially she had thought she'd just read some femslash - the place was pretty empty this time of day - but the truth was she'd been reading far too much fanfiction lately. She'd found out about their book series and it was endlessly entertaining to - after downloading and reading the books - go through and read all the fanfiction on these two brothers. Fortunately, the fanfiction was far less depressing than the books, since the fanfiction at least wasn't real. Still, occasionally, it was important to read some real literature. She rolled her eyes at her conscience nagging at her recent decline of adventurous reading, and picked out something by H.P. Lovecraft.

Which may or may not have been an idea in her subconscious because of the Winchester brothers. Charlie moved her legs so her right leg was crossed over her left, started tapping to another song, and tried to sink into the book while sipping occasionally at the coffee. Just as she was about to give up and leave, Dean slid into the seat across from her while Sam smoothly pulled up another chair.

Without moving her head, she looked up at them. "You're late."

"Do you really want to know why?"

She pretended to consider. "No, probably not."

"Okay, well first we need to make sure you're you." Dean pulled out a small bottle of water, pouring some on her hand. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Holy water," Sam explained. Dean pulled out a few other things, too. At one point he pricked her finger and she snatched her hand back, looking at him scathingly. "Sorry, sorry, it was another test."

She considered making a bigger issue of it, but it occurred to her they didn't interact with many people closely enough to need to evaluate them - and the ones that did probably knew all about their tests anyway. So Charlie leaned back, arms relaxed, and looked at Dean calmly instead. He and Sam both looked around, cautious. When they didn't start getting to the topic fast enough she felt her pent up energy starting to nag at her again, so she motioned with her hands that they should get down to business. Dean began. 

Except to her surprise, Dean tried to begin from the _beginning_ beginning. Probably wanted to show his trust in her involvement, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Quickly Charlie threw up her hands. 

"That story is going to take _forever_. I've read Chuck's books, you don't need to start _all_ the way back."

Dean and Sam exchanged a weird look. Charlie stared back. It wasn't like it was that hard to figure out where she was coming from if they used a published work as a milestone. But Sam cleared his throat just a little before explaining.

"We... Don't actually read his books. He was a prophet that could psychically see our lives as it was happening. So, what do you know?"

She spoke just a few sentences before Sam and Dean stopped her, figuring out where Chuck had left off in the publishing world, and they told her the relevant details from there.

"So... you need to capture this demon. Fast. To press for information," she didn't bother to expand on the insinuation of possible torture ahead. "And you don't know if you can trust your strongest ally."

Charlie hummed slightly as she thought over the potential risks and consequences. She wasn't stupid - the tangle with the leviathan hadn't been fun and she was not feeling any urge for a repeat. Of any of those escapades. She still got nightmares of opening her door and finding a leviathan there, ready to consume her. Still had flashbacks to trying desperately getting out of the building. Not everyone was built for adventure, and the type of adventures these men engaged in regularly were traumatizing. Bloody. Horrific.

On the other hand, they were talking about Heaven, Hell, demons and angels. The fate of the world and all that. Charlie loved _Narnia_ , _Harry Potter_ , and _The Lord of the Rings_. Sure, it wasn't the same at all to read these things over experiencing them first hand. And she'd already played a role. Charlie had done enough. Not as much as the Winchester brothers, but more than many would ever do.

Still, could she refuse to help them when they had come to her?

"What's your plan?"

Dean and Sam looked around again. The change in their faces, their body language, their positioning was fascinating to Charlie. These were veteran spies. They were used to the enemy being anywhere. Little movements that would make their lips harder to read, drawing in slightly so they could speak just a little more quietly. They told her about angel wards, sigils and demon traps. Enochian. A prophet named Kevin Tran - who couldn't actually be involved in this mission personally because he was of high interest to the person they were trying to capture. Demon bombs. A collective mess that sounded like what could easily become a suicidal mission, especially given their relationship with this demon Crowley. On a power scale they seemed sure their angel friend could help prevent them from being the victim of an attack. But they weren't entirely sure he could safely be in the same room as Crowley as they were talking. To Charlie, it seemed pretty unlikely that their safety could be guaranteed with this angel - or any others - if they couldn't be guarding the Winchester brothers and herself personally.

Charlie rolled her eyes, eyebrows rising, and gave an expression of what easily conveyed, "What have I gotten myself into?" But instead she asked, "How much help do you have?"

"We're scouting for some hunters, cautiously. I'd feel pretty safe with... four or five people. Unfortunately, most people we've been able to trust in the past are dead." The twinge in his voice was subtle, but it stung. 

Charlie considered that bit carefully, thinking about what she was considering to offer. To be a part of. And whether she had any right to offer that misery to anyone else. Still, she decided to suck it up, and Charlie grinned. "I might actually be able to help you out there."


	3. Dance Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Bradbury helps Dean and Sam Winchester prepare for the mission, scouting for potential teammates.

Dean and Sam had both been trying to reach some contacts - mostly sifting through Bobby's old contact lists. Unsurprisingly, many of them had black-listed the Winchesters. The people they touched tended to die. Dean and Sam weren't really sure that Charlie Bradbury could actually be of assistance in that department, but when they finally turned to her and admitted they were a bit stumped at getting participants together she arranged a casual get-together. This time she planned a little better, assuming they might not get there on time, opting to meet them at a museum and go from _there_ to an actual meeting place. If they were on time, it was no big deal, if they weren't Charlie could move around.

In the meantime, she had been testing the waters of this adventure on her girlfriend Natasha, in several different ways. Testing for signs of demon or other evil activity going on had been the first step, obviously. Charlie had initially thought maybe she could call to Sam and Dean's friend Castiel, since he would be able to tell just by looking at people, but since Castiel was someone they were all worried about she'd decided against it. The less involved he was, the better. Most of the tests were pretty easy to do herself, discreetly, such as holy water and silver. She even managed to draw a little blood, albeit in a slightly-different, accidental-looking manner compared to the boys and their stupid knives. Apparently the boys had never heard of a papercut. But Natasha had passed all the tests.

She would have been pretty disappointed if her girlfriend had been a demon.

There was also an internal conflict going on. How close did she really feel to Natasha? Their relationship was pretty new. Not very strictly defined. Charlie just wasn't sure how intimate a person should be with another person before they ask each other to go on life-risking adventures together. Character? There were no qualms there. Charlie had met Natasha rescuing a girl from being attacked by some boys during her morning jog, passing one of the local high schools. Natasha herself had worked in one of the local bookstores, a seemingly quiet occupation for someone with so much strength to boast of. She had been well-trained in combat and self-defense - a certified body guard which meant she could probably get paid a bit better than her current job. 

She had been beautiful, not needing even thirty seconds of speaking to convince the boys they should step off. She radiated confidence and this sense that you should _not_ mess with her. Not to say that her body wasn't also gorgeous - her dark skin, hair, and eyes, the tone of her muscles, a freckle on her right cheek. And well, Charlie was also a big fan of her boobs, not that she would have said it on this first encounter. Charlie wasn't left speechless or tongue-tied all that often, but she managed to mess up her first conversation with Natasha pretty well. 

She even managed to mix the names _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_ in her star-struck anxiety - and not much gets more embarrassing than that, especially when the person you're speaking to is a sci-fi nerd. Which Natasha managed to be that, too. But she somehow still managed to get her number. And Natasha was perfect for this sort of thing - she was brave, and someone who generally needed a mission.

Still, Charlie felt her insides twist up even as she was still trying to decide if she really, for sure, wanted Natasha to be dragged into this. The Winchesters weren't black-listed from every hunting contact they could think of for no reason - this was dangerous stuff. On the other hand, she didn't really have the right to make decisions for her girlfriend. So eventually she carefully considered her surroundings, and when she was comforted by the calm and quiet around her and that no one was listening, she confided in Natasha, with as much honesty as possible considering the need to keep the details vague. 

The more she spoke, her stomach twisted and she tried harder to convince Natasha of the dangers of these things. Maybe she would think Charlie was delusional. It certainly sounded so. But Natasha looked at Charlie calmly, accepting through the entire story. She'd seen Charlie wake up from her nightmares, she'd had to hold and comfort her. Had long ago believed herself that ghosts were real and that she had been on the receiving end of weird encounters in the past.

Charlie as she spoke about her experiences with the leviathan started to shake, and Natasha placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in. Then moved on to the idea of these demon gates that could be sealed, and needing information to help Dean and Sam save one of their friends. She would keep interjecting her own sentences with "you don't have to" and "this is bad stuff, this stuff is dangerous" and of course "even Dean and Sam can't find people to help them anymore."

But of course, Charlie had known exactly who she was asking when she'd started. She had known, and this was why she had fallen in love with Natasha so quickly. Because at the end of all that, Natasha looked into Charlie. The Hebrew tattoo on her collarbone that said "tikkun olam" visible as she turned to get a better look at Charlie. "Repair of the World," Natasha had explained, "We're supposed to put it back together."

And now she looked at Charlie and said, "Yes, I'll help. And I think I can network a few others into it... I know a few superstitious people with combat skills." And she gave Charlie her most reassuring smile.

By the time Dean and Sam got to the museum - on time - Charlie was torn between excitement to share this adventure with someone like Natasha, and wanting to cry that she was going to be dragged into it. And all of a sudden their plan was going to be best executed within the next two weeks.


	4. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Charlie Bradbury and Natasha look for another potential member of Team Free Will, Dean and Sam Winchester try to contact Castiel, and voice their idea of capturing Crowley - hopefully with what sounds like a reasonable mission plan.

Castiel had been spending weeks trying very hard not to think. But sometimes he looked at his hands, and thoughts came out. Fortunately, not thoughts he thought were possibly dangerous. At least, not to the Winchesters. Not to whatever it was that was going on. He knew, vaguely, that Dean and Sam were locking him out, even if he didn't know why. Occasionally he would figure out where they were, even if he couldn't enter because of the sigils, and he would move on quickly, focusing on other tasks. 

He had told Dean before that his dreams weren't safe, a long time ago. Not many angels were like him, and it seemed likely that if his thoughts were being compromised... the person involved would not even know the significance of his being shut out of his friends' private spaces. He felt _wrong_. He was doing things that didn't make sense. They were not things he would have done since the leviathan had left his vessel. Killing Samandriel... It was unforgiveable. He would have preferred it if Samandriel had killed him. He knew it was self-defense, but could not remember Samandriel attacking him. Things were wrong.

He listened for Dean and Sam, but otherwise his 'angel radio' as he called it was turned off. And he was thinking that Heaven, Dean, Sam, everyone he knew, they would be better off without him. Better off with someone who didn't keep doing these bad things, no matter how hard he tried to be good.

When Sam and Dean called, Castiel considered ignoring them. Encouraging them to move on. But even though Castiel was fallen and weak, he could still sense everything in them and he knew abandoning them would be cruel in spite of his good intentions. They had lost so much. Bobby stuck out at him in particular, having been there when he had been put to rest.

Bobby. That had been his fault too.

He had no need to sigh, but he took a moment to put himself together and as he did he sighed anyway. He had been adopting many human behaviorisms in his short time on Earth. And he was sure that not a single angel had fallen as low as he had, not since Lucifer. Hell, Lucifer had killed less of their siblings. Sam and Dean were calling him and he was having a difficult time ignoring their call, the prayers pestering his insides. This gnawed at his brain, too, the insisting nagging that their prayers had over anyone else - more than being his assignment or his bond with Dean and Sam, there was something he found unnerving about the situation.

Maybe it was another dangerous thing to think about.

Chasing away the thought and giving into the urge to respond to them, Castiel went to Sam and Dean. He took in Dean's relief upon seeing him. Sometimes, he wanted to tell Dean he shouldn't be concerned of him. There was something sad about a creature - a human - worrying about the life and well-being of him, a creature older than Dean could ever fathom coming from a species that usually didn't live even a hundred of Earth years. A waste of anxiety for something so short lived. Of course, he knew better: Dean and Sam cared for him, and the length of his existence did not change their friendship or how they would react if he were gone. For several years he had begun to feel plenty of these emotions himself.

They were not rational. Of course, that was not to say feelings could not also be rational, but those related to relationships and bonds often were not, at least in Castiel's experiences.  Him caring as much as he did about Sam and Dean Winchester made very little sense at all, being an immortal being.

"Cas?"

He had been over-thinking again.

"Yes, Dean? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

"We're trying to capture and interrogate Crowley."

Castiel suddenly found himself unusually interested in the conversation and that feeling somewhere inside started gnawing again. He was sure, he would almost rather die than be feeling that way with Sam and Dean before him. But he found himself asking what the point and goals were behind capturing Crowley.

"Well, I don't know Cas, maybe get the other half of the demon tablet back? The whole 'close the gates to Hell' thing? Crowley's got it, we want it. You know Kevin hasn't been able to read the half-tablet we got to him."

It made sense. They needed the tablet. There was nothing unusual about needing to go after Crowley.

"And how would you be doing this?"

"Convince him Kevin Tran is out of hiding, trap him with the usual demon traps, see how he feels about talking."

Skepticism passed over Castiel's face. Crowley was not a fool, and Dean and Sam knew that. He knew he needed to avoid Sam and Dean, and he had it in for Sam and Dean anyway. If they managed to coax him somewhere to force speaking with him, Crowley would attack, full force, and they often found he and his hell hounds made capturing him quite formidable. 

Still, he felt encouraged by this. It nagged at him. It wasn't a good idea, not at all, but he felt compelled to agree.

What was wrong with him?

"Where do I come in?" 

"Help with demon traps and setting up wherever we do this. Protection of the surrounding area. You know how capturing Crowley goes. We'll end up having to deal with all sorts of bullshit, especially now that he's, well, a bit desperate and has no real reason to care about sparing our lives anymore."

Castiel still looked doubtful. "Do you really think you can do this without actually putting Kevin Tran in harm's way? I find it very difficult to believe that Crowley wouldn't be sure of whether or not he had a chance of reclaiming him to read the rest of the tablet."

 _No, no endangering the prophets._ The thought nagged at him heavily, uncomfortably so considering his lack of relationship with Kevin Tran. Not that he didn't have regard for his life, but the thought was pervasive, almost as though the idea was a complete obscenity. A stark difference with how he had regarded Chuck several years ago as a simple tool to attempt to help Dean destroy Lilith. 

"Maybe I could just track down Crowley and attempt to take the tablet piece from him myself," Castiel murmured doubtfully, but that didn't stop the nagging feeling he had - simply changed its direction. The nagging feeling seemed to think his life still had some value. For Sam and Dean's sake.

Or something.

He didn't trust himself or the nagging feeling. But Castiel couldn't seem to really pinpoint what was wrong and couldn't bother Sam and Dean with his concerns. So instead he turned more to the practical matters of their weird plan at hand.

"What do we need?"

"Sam and I have been scoping a place not too far from here. It will need sigils, demon traps, demon wards, salt, holy water, the works. We're hoping maybe you could help with the ingredients again for demon bombs," Dean grinned, "We're making sure the water can't function and we're trying to make sure the windows are sealed, salted, and hopefully warded as well. Charlie has actually had some good ideas about that - alongside some notes Kevin had written down from his translations of the demon tablet."

"It seems as though you have put a lot of effort and time into preparing for this meeting with Crowley," Castiel's thoughts tried to break through again. But he kept carefully distracted to the thought of how this was not the normal, impatient, improvised way the boys went about their missions. He doubted they spent more than thirty minutes normally before attempting to meet with a demon. Perhaps an hour for Crowley. Instead, this seemed to have been the thing plaguing their thoughts for weeks, and in Dean especially it showed. Sam Winchester seemed more comfortable with this - research and preparation. Rigorous drilling and training - not in the body, but in the logistics, the planning, the research.

But he dismissed it, like many things he has dismissed the last few weeks, to simple development with the boys' relationship dynamics. Or because Crowley had everything to gain by their deaths at this point and very little to lose unless he retrieved Kevin Tran, or potentially gained control over another angel - but the thought stuttered his brain, veering him back on track to the situation at hand.

The point was, Crowley was desperate. Desperation could make a person fight in ways and methods that otherwise seemed unimaginable.

Castiel knew that better than anyone. 

He looked at Dean, considering, hearing the nagging voice. The one making him consider plans and advice that seemed so counter-intuitive to him, to protecting those he cared about, so much that it almost surprised him to say, "Let's get started."

And so, for the first time in a while, Castiel was involved with one of their missions that involved demons, the prophet, Crowley and potentially tablets.


	5. Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself once again in the office of Naomi.

"You need to find out the details of Dean and Sam's plans for Crowley."

Castiel looked around, momentarily shocked. He hadn't transported himself, but he was suddenly in a bright white office with two chairs, a woman sitting before him on the opposite side of a desk. He almost panicked, but some vague memories fell into place in the back of his mind. Castiel couldn't remember everything, but enough to know this wasn't the first time he had an encounter with this angel. Naomi.

Probably the fourth or fifth time for Castiel, the minute worrying he had been feeling internally made sense - or at least would for the duration of this meeting, replaced with a sense of impotent rage. Gathering himself, his tone forced and urgent, Castiel responded.

"What do you mean? The Winchesters are trying to close the gates to Hell, overcoming Crowley and reclaiming the rest of the tablet is vital. The prophet Kevin Tran --"

Naomi glared at him, blue eyes cold, hands splayed on her desk as she leaned over to give him a hard look, interrogating him, reading his thoughts. Castiel squirmed in a way that would have been imperceptible to a human, but Naomi saw through it and the minute change in her face's set showed that she knew she had hit a nerve.

"Don't play, Castiel, you know exactly what I mean. I know you are... attached... To the Winchesters," she continued with some disgust. Castiel began to look as though he would interject, but she cut him off with another cold glare. Castiel cringed - she was truly inside his mind in a way not considered appropriate even by the standards of most angels. "I know the way they have been planning with you lately is not their normal operating standard. They have been locking you out, becoming more private."

"They are not trusting of _angels_ , and I am affected by angel sigils and wards. As you know. It makes sense for them to want to keep potential spies away from this case, and they have known angels to be manipulative in the past." Castiel tried to sound convincing. Tried to appeal to what he knew was the often distasted, condescending attitude of angels toward humans. Unfortunately for him - and he knew it - his respect for Dean and Sam Winchester and humanity in general made him sound nothing like an angel. He was at best a human sympathizer. At worst a traitor to his own family, choosing humans over his own.

Naomi smiled coldly, and settled down into the chair behind her desk, relaxing her arms.

It did not make Castiel feel more comfortable.

"Perhaps. But I am inside your mind, Castiel. I see the tricks you try to pull, and I am commanding you --" her intonation became more forceful, commanding, "You will attempt to learn more about their plan and motivations. You will not be satisfied with being excluded. You will be hurt and offended that Dean and Sam are locking you out, and you will want to find out why they have been so cautious about angels being aware of their plan."

"I will not --"

Castiel was suddenly alone where he had been before his forced meeting with Naomi. For a moment, he looked almost like a wave might crash down over him, before the following rush where he once again was unaware of anything that had just taken place. Except that his motivations and concerns were suddenly different, yet again, from those he had just seconds before.

He needed to find out what was happening with Dean and Sam Winchester.


	6. The Light of Day

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his left hand while scrolling through some web-pages. Then sighed at the background noise of his brother bickering before moving his hand to tug at his hair. He couldn't even say he was researching - the stuff he was doing was entirely recreational in nature. He just wanted to tune out the bickering between Charlie, Natasha and his brother. Natasha and Charlie tended to get very involved with the planning of this attack and how to best approach capturing Crowley without letting him get away - and the chaffing they did was getting on his brother's bad side. They were both sitting on the floor at the end of Dean's bed, Dean kicked back to watch television. But he had the volume low and was still focused more on planning like everyone else. The television was mostly so Dean wouldn't snap at them completely. But Sam would look up and see his jaw working, on occasion.

"Ghosts and demons try to break salt circles with wind and throwing shit around, right? Why don't we just prepare a salt moat so it's not so easy to break?"

"Or salt bricks? You could probably do that with salt. Have you seen the chunks of it in Death Valley? I mean... Probably wouldn't just blow away in a light breeze."

It probably didn't help that some of their ideas were actually pretty good. Not the most practical for your average hunting trip where you only knew what was happening on the scene, or when you had to be able to work with supplies just out of your car and the local area. But for the offensive that they were taking? Natasha and Charlie could actually be pretty inspired. Natasha credited her older brother and combat trainers with considering strategy in combat. Charlie's bragging rights went to her work as a computer hacker.

They had different fields, but both were strangely advantageous for reinforcing strengths and shamelessly taking advantage of weaknesses. Sam turned his eyes over at Dean, bemused. He'd tried to reassure him not too long ago - that 'new eyes see clear' - but it hadn't really done anything other than grind Dean's nerves.

"You know, we should just keep them after this is over back for regular hunting. Our missions will probably take a tenth the time."

"Yeah, all we need is a talking dog and a freakin' green van. Shut _up_ ," Dean muttered, and he looked almost like he was going to kick the bed sitting across from him. This mission was the opposite of everything normal to how they operated and not at all within his strength. It wasn't something he would have done if it was anyone other than Sam or Cas, and Sam knew it.

He knew Dean felt awkward and useless - not that he was. Dean had scouted a place to set things up, had made sure the place had no service to water, gas, or electricity - not even for fire sprinklers or basic plumbing. It had a great set-up both for trapping Crowley and trying to maintain some privacy of that conversation from Castiel - the decided place was the office room. Dean had checked over everything - roof to floor - and Sam thought he might have actually made the perfect demon trap. And while Dean didn't really like to research, Sam knew that when he put his nose to the grindstone he could do it just about as well as anyone.

Sam's cell phone rang just as he was getting to the good part of the story he was reading, and he responded.

"Sam. I would like to be able to enter the motel room."

"Hey Castiel," Sam lifted an eyebrow at his brother. Noted Cas calling his phone instead of Dean's. Dean shifted too - and their body language communicated what neither of them wanted to say when Castiel could overhear. "He wants us to let him in."

Dean shrugged, then stood up break the sigils. "Well we're not doing anything particularly relevant at the moment, can't hurt. I'll just set them back up later." As soon as he'd broken the mark on the last sigil Castiel appeared in the middle of the room, which pretty badly startled Charlie and Natasha.

"Holy _shit,_ what was that?!" Charlie in particular was pretty shaken, though she quickly recovered that almost fast enough to not internally wonder whether she might just be incompetent for this sort of work. She knew _about_ Castiel, Dean and Sam had explained their goals and situation to her. Charlie relaxed, settling back down, regarding him more calmly again. Her anxiety relating back to the leviathan was going to have to settle down eventually - and it would probably begin with getting used to these weird new facts in her life as fast as possible.  Charlie was nothing if not adaptable. And, well, at heart she was actually a badass that had had to change her identity a few times over and start over again. She was just having to re-immerse into the more direct, physically-endangering mode of good.

Natasha knew just a little bit about him herself - and her reaction was far more reserved. For her, this was the first experience with anything supernatural, which gave her slightly less apprehension. Even if she knew that probably wouldn't be how she felt in just a few more days, it was easy enough to stay relaxed around people magically appearing in the center of a room now. She regarded Castiel with the fascination of brand new graduate student - before the overwhelming research and debt slowly crushed their soul and spirit.

Dean smirked just a bit, tilting his head. "Sorry for the lack of warning - Cas kind of has bad manners about that."

Castiel stared into Dean's green eyes and his jaw clenched slightly, then his eyes moved around the room at Natasha and Charlie, over to Sam and finally back to Dean. "You and Sam are not alone."

Dean stared Cas down, and Cas broke first, shifting his feet and looking down.

"Jeez, a bit rude. Could afford to learn how to do introductions," Natasha muttered.

"Yeah, again, Cas is a bit of a baby in a trenchcoat," Dean said smoothly. "Cas, this is Charlie Bradbury, I can't really remember even remember if you met her or not before we got shoved out into Purgatory --"

"Nope."

"And this is her girlfriend Natasha. Natasha and Charlie, this is Cas." Charlie hadn't actually corrected anyone that her name wasn't 'Charlie Bradbury' anymore - she'd made a new identity for herself once or twice since she'd first met the two of them. But keeping information to a minimum worked two ways, so she didn't bother correcting them, and Natasha had known Charlie to give nicknames to others in the past - as well as a bit of her Robinhood hacking history. Their relationship was new, but she was honest with people she was interested in where it mattered, and she wasn't one to throw her cards in with someone who couldn't understand that themselves.

Probably part of why Sam and Dean liked her, really.

Cas looked back over at them momentarily, but it was clear his interests lay elsewhere. "Pleased to meet you."

Then, "Dean, Sam, I need to talk with you two. I want to know why you two have been shutting me out if we're on such an 'important mission' in the next few days." Human interaction was a slow process for Dean Cas had been getting better at using airquotes.

"Cas, we're not shutting you out, we're just a bit wary of your siblings up in Cloud Nine."

"You're lying, Dean. I want to know what the truth is about your plan with Crowley. And what if you put Kevin in danger? I can't be as useful if I don't have all the information." Castiel stare intensified again. Dean was pretty sure Castiel's eyes were about half a minute from popping out of his head.

"Cas. Are you reading my mind? Because if so, get out."

He tilted his head. "I am not going anywhere without answers."

"Out of my _head_ , Cas, not out of the _room_." Castiel didn't answer, but his pose relaxed slightly.

Castiel hadn't noticed the glances between Sam, Natasha and Charlie in the background. Charlie spoke up, tilting her head to look over at Cas from the floor. "Actually Cas, Natasha and I were going to go out. You should probably come with us. We should probably get to know each other a little better." Natasha and she both flashed their best conspiring smiles. It was probably the first thing to make Castiel look intimidated in weeks and Dean choked back some mild amusement.

"Yeah, Cas. It'd be a great idea. I need my sleep anyway. And Sam has some final details to put in. You may as well get to know the rest of our team before we head out."

Castiel felt the nagging inside him again, like it was considering the decision for him, but it ended up getting dismissed. But the promise of information to him sounded a lot more optimistic than attempting to argue with Dean - and the mind-reading wasn't working as well as he'd like, not at the minimal power he'd seemed to be stuck at lately. Besides that, all Dean and Sam had to do was distract themselves with other thoughts, and it quickly got too confusing to sift through the junk. And Dean was pretty good at distracting his mind with porn, anyway.

"Fine. Then we talk."

"Sam and I have been chilling here with Natasha and Charlie in this hell-hole for days, Cas. The four of us can't even afford two different rooms. We've gotten to know them pretty well. Maybe a bit too well, frankly," Dean chuckled. "I'm not used to being in a place so crowded."

Charlie got up and took Cas' arm while Natasha moved out to the other side. "Come on Cas. Let's go."

After they headed out and closed the door, Dean repaired the sigils, to undo after he and Sam had spoken again. He turned off the television, moved from his unkempt bed to the crappy motel table, to sit across from his brother. It wobbled and Dean responded by placing a wad of napkins under the leg before tapping it and looking over at Sam. Sam opened up first.

"So he's getting pushy."

"I know. I don't know what he's up to. Or why. Or what is going on. But yes, he's definitely pushing. And I don't like it."

"Then what do we do? He's an angel, we're not going to be able to pull the wool over his eyes very long."

Dean threw himself back into the chair, switching up his slouch. "I don't know."

They knew they wouldn't be able to talk about it very long without raising Castiel's suspicions, and decided on a strategy to keep Castiel in - and out - of the loop for their plan. Sam would have to finish their preparations tonight, with some minor alterations of the their location - including a few sigils to send away their friend, if necessary. Dean would stay back and tell Castiel the plan and layout as it had originally been drawn out - at least, after his four hours.

Dean lay on his bed after Sam took off and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Chances are he would be woken up when Natasha and Charlie got back, and the crowded rooms, floor-crashing and bed-sharing was wearing down completely at his ability to get proper rest - other than his brother, his brain interpreted pretty much any disruption in the room as a potential threat. Half the time he'd wake up even if his brother moved.

 _Damn_ , he thought, _if it had been anyone but Cas I would have broken in this planning thing the first few days_.


	7. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Bradbury and Natasha take Castiel out for the evening as a distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason AO3 hasn't been saving changes I make to the chapter and I lose stuff when I hit 'preview.' So I am not previewing this time. Hopefully it turns out okay, ultimately I still consider it a rough draft anyway.

Castiel looked around around the establishment into which Natasha and Charlie had dragged him, a perplexed expression on his face. It changed slowly into a sense of reluctant understanding and acceptance. This also seemed to increase his nerves, enough that both the women noticed and exchanged amused glances. Charlie took his arm without permission in an uncharacteristic manner, pulling Castiel to their left. Castiel looked a little annoyed by the touch and general environment as she and Natasha looked for a table against the wall. However, he did not protest and his irritation subsided as they found a place to sit, and Charlie dropped his arm. She invited him to take one chair as she sat on the opposite side.

Natasha broke off from the two of them to order a few drinks. The place bustled, and was poorly lit with many patrons and loud noises around him - not the least of which being the surrounding music. Castiel fidgeted.

"Why have the two of you taken me to this gay bar?"

"Huh. I was under the impression you were naïve --"

"I am _not_ naïve --"

"-- _of human ways_ ," Charlie clarified, cutting out his defensiveness. Castiel rolled up his eyes, but his face confirmed what she had just said.

"Perhaps a little. In that context. Naïve of human ways, I mean."

Charlie folded her arms on the table and grinned. "So. How much time have you spent with Dean to know this is a gay bar?"

" _Dean_ has never brought me to such a place and I doubt he would ever step foot in one for recreational purposes," Castiel sputtered, almost looking panicked. Like he had just been caught red-handed in a crime. Exactly what his experience was with Dean and bars, she wasn't sure. She looked at him, wondering if it was worth pursuing the topic or whether she really wanted to know why it made him look like a deer in the headlights. Charlie considered Dean and Sam, then decided not knowing would probably be for the best.

She looked across the room at Natasha, and as she turned around and caught her eye she smiled and gestured at the bartender. It was almost her turn to order. Charlie looked back over at Castiel, who looked compelled to continue. It was an insult to his own abilities, striking him again as the hopelessly ignorant outsider. Dean would not react well to the idea that this knowledge had been a result of his mentoring and the misunderstanding could cause later conflict and frustration.

Castiel looked down at the table, determined make it clear that this was in the realm of things he could easily determine without the presence of Dean or Sam. Charlie intended to let him speak, but she did hold up a hand before Castiel could start, a request for him to pause.

"Hang on Cas, Natasha's gotten our drinks and I don't want her lost on the conversation." Natasha had purchased one for each of them, not realizing Castiel had no need to drink. She placed one by each of them and then and sat next to Charlie before she waved him on. "Okay. Now it's show-and-tell time. Dean and Sam never took you to a gay bar, so how did you know? I'm guessing if you spent more time in bars yourself you'd probably be a bit better at socializing."

Castiel didn't do group conversations very well. He looked back up at Charlie very directly as he continued - as though Natasha weren't there at all. Of course, that alone wasn't inhuman - Charlie knew her fair share of people who sucked at being group-inclusive during their conversations. She was a fairly bubbly computer geek, and really there were more sociable people in her field and hobbies than most people knew, but she and Natasha would also both regularly encounter wall-flowers and loners who could barely keep a conversation with one person, let alone multiple people.

This sort of conversation - with Castiel - wasn't like that. It wasn't just the intensity or anxiety of not knowing how to socialize or relate to people in a way considered 'normal.' Charlie felt a shiver of unease as she remembered just how _not_ human Castiel was. That he was a being that regularly killed people and could do it very easily. She adjusted her position and tried to forget about that. Took a sip from her beer bottle, rested one hand on her thigh and tried to keep her brain wrapped around what he was saying instead of torturing herself with the fact that he could remove her head just as easily as the leviathan she had seen could eat people in less than half a minute.

She _really_ envied Natasha for her lack of personal experiences with monsters. Because she looked over and Natasha was just intrigued.

"I did not know it was a gay bar because I have experiences with gay bars. There are certain abilities I have, being what I am. The transporting, the immortality... And the relevant thing here - my ability to read peoples' souls, histories and minds," Castiel saw something unpleasant flash across their faces - unease and discomfort. He hurried through and hoped whatever bothered them would be quelled. "Things like sexuality are very ostentatious - like a neon sign. It's something I couldn't help reading, unless I was entirely powered down."

"But you aren't reading our minds? Or our... personal histories?" Natasha and Charlie were still looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"I am not reading minds at the moment, no. Anything I can shut down from sensing I have, so there are just the basics - and since I am not being invasive the motivations behind the things I can sense aren't clear. Angels..." he hesitated. "We are very used to this lack of privacy. It is a very typical part of our lives. But we know privacy is important to humans, and I have learned much of that with Sam and Dean. And a few other experiences. Even what I can read, I would keep it private - my experiences and time with people have convinced me that humans have to experience, process, and develop on their own - bluntly stating something can be damaging."

He decided he probably did not have to expand on that with his experience of Dean taking him to a brothel. In seeing the minute changes in their face that displayed relief that confirmed his assumptions, he had a sense of pride. It soothed the smallest bit against the overwhelming self-hatred he had internalized since playing God. He had grown much better at understanding humans and humanity from a participant's perspective. Not that he as an angel had been entirely unaware of these things. But it was another thing entirely to start seeing a potentially negative reaction, catching the misunderstanding, and explaining it before it became a serious issue.

It was an example of _human_ fluency, and not one that every human had - let alone angels. To the contrary - most angels' respect for privacy, as he intimately knew, were simply because humans were seen as utterly boring and irrelevant. The concerns he was grasping from Natasha and Charlie - the things he could not stop - were not things his kind would care about. He was one of the very few exceptions that had grown to understand these things. And when applied practically, there was very little reason to act on most humans' fears - as old as he was, what would the point be in causing unnecessary discomfort to something so short-lived? However, actually grasping it after existing millions of years in a world where everyone had the same abilities was at least some small accomplishment he could feel good about. Of course, his ability to communicate with people still... inadequate.

"That's pretty cool. I guess. Superpowers." Natasha still looked uncomfortable, shifted, refraining from eye-contact. Castiel smiled at her and tried to look as non-threatening as he could hope to look to anyone who knew he was actually a supernatural being. He wanted to convey that her fears were unfounded - without actually affirming whether or not he knew what was bothering her. He considered lying - something he'd learned could be a kindness on some occasions. But Charlie and Natasha both had enough problems with trust to add that to the list.

He would try a hand at changing the subject instead. He had been reading much about humans. Deflection could be a tactful way to attempt to break tension. He broke a smile and tried to look appropriately interested and energized.

"Why are we here? I assume you're not attempting to procure mates, though for all I know I am mistaken," he continued. "One time we believed a woman to be cheating on her husband and it turned out they had an open marriage. So I have learned to not assume extramarital relationships are inherently unfaithful."

Natasha and Charlie stared. Charlie raised her eyebrow and the corner of Natasha's lip minutely twitched as though she were about to laugh or break into a smirk. The atmosphere between the three of them gained some levity. Charlie had been told at some point that Castiel was a 'baby in a trench coat' by Dean, and this had been more in the ball-park of discomfort she had expected to happen with his outings. Natasha was fighting amusement that she was sitting across from an angel that had spent years on Earth and was talking about other people as though they were an _Animal Planet_ documentary. But this was easier to respond to, and more fun than wondering what he knew about them and whether such information would become a problem or not.

"You know, Charlie, I think it was bad planning on Dean's part for us to have a girl's night out with Cas as a first encounter," Natasha chuckled before turning back to Castiel. "Cas, first, humans don't call their sex partners 'mates' most of the time - that's normally a term for animals. Second, we are _not_ married - it would be sort of a big step for two people that have only known each other for a few weeks. Third, I'm cool with open relationships and polyamory for other people - but it's not my thing personally. If I'm not in a one night stand, I'm being exclusive."

She grinned at Charlie and then finished. "Lastly, fun in bars is _not_ always about sex. But considering the two people that make up the entirety of your meaningful relationships... I guess I can understand your confusion."

Castiel's few experiences in this type of environment _had_ convinced him that this was a central function of bars, aside from eating or becoming intoxicated. Charlie and Natasha had a point - many of his experiences were still mostly limited to a very short time among two men. And Dean and Sam were probably not the best examples considering their lives were radically different from those of normal humans. The longer he considered, brow furrowing, the more amused his companions seemed to become. They shared a look with each other before Charlie decided to try to expand on the point for Castiel's sake. _Baby in a trenchcoat where the caretakers are two situational alcoholics with post-traumatic stress disorder,_ she thought dismally.

This was going to cut into her having fun tonight, she just knew it. It was not her personality to try to talk philosophy and meaning-of-life or whatever. That wasn't to say she and Natasha weren't deep, caring, or smart. But life was hard enough without being upset all the time. She'd rather read _Harry Potter_ and imagine a hot lady vulcan in her life in her off-time, followed with hacking bank accounts of assholes getting rich and stagnating labor rights laws to give money to humanitarian and environmental causes. And for Natasha, these things could be particularly difficult topics because her life had thrown her some bad shit, one reason they got along so well. Both of them were generally willing to let that stuff go for fun except when in a position to do something bigger.

But it wasn't really fair to Castiel to not attempt and explain these things, considering he was a complete outsider. And she knew those conversations probably wouldn't come much from Sam and Dean. So it was time to try and metaphorically suck it up and be a mentor.

Or something. Especially because if Castiel spent much longer looking quizzically at them and hypothesizing other motivations for dating lesbians to go to a gay bar she was pretty sure his face was going to get stuck.

"Cas, it's simple. Socialization. Hanging out. Granted, Natasha and I here aren't normally into bars. I like sci-fi conventions and comic-cons. I do cosplay and LARPing type things. Computer games. Hacking. Other stuff that I'm not actually good at but it's just fun. And well, Natasha has some other interests, too --"

"Like watching Charlie pretending she knows how to dance," Natasha interjected helpfully.

"--But we needed to get out and since we aren't around friends and whatnot we came out here just for some enjoyment. With other people. Hopefully other people who have at _least_ one thing in common with us," Charlie finished. "I'm sure Dean and Sam have enjoyed the company of other hunters before? Or that you enjoy hanging out with them because you don't have to overcome the whole 'I-am-an-angel-of-the-Lord' obstacle and they just already know and are comfortable with it?"

Charlie saw Castiel's contemplation. Some things about him intimidated her. On the other hand, there was something amazing - and a bit sad - about the idea that a creation meant to be a servant of God, the thing that supposedly made humankind in its image, could have such a hard time grasping certain core aspects of humanity. He spent his time with two men that didn't have much in the way of meaningful relationships, though. He couldn't be expected to go from spending all his most valued time with Sam and Dean to understanding that not everyone functioned the same way. It was weird, like watching a sapient computer trying to take in a new software that was conflicting with an outdated operating system. A PC with a heart. She and Natasha exchanged another look - pity this time - and Natasha had apparently had given this enough of her time tonight. Charlie didn't blame her - she didn't know all that much about Natasha's family history - she was waiting for Natasha to open up on her own - but she knew that Natasha had been disowned years back by most of her family, save her older brother and key mentor.

Charlie didn't know how that felt - she hadn't given her family the opportunity and had done the disowning herself the first time she'd changed her identity. She did remember very distinctly how unpleasant it had been to realize that was going to be in her future. She couldn't deny that when she'd made the decision, she got a kick out of hacking the organizations her parents were members of and used their funds to donate to organizations meant to fight for labor rights in developing nations. So she couldn't know the exact place Natasha was coming from but could understand when she placed both her hands on the table and strongly pushed herself up, deciding it was time to have fun for the night.

"I'm going to go dance," Natasha told her, moving away the table. "Join me when you're ready." Charlie looked after her, wanting to join, but she and Natasha were supposed to be keeping him busy, anyway, and leaving him at the table also meant being able to lose track of him. She decided to try to expand on the point just a bit longer for his benefit and decided Dean and Sam owed her and Natasha for cutting into their night. So what if they'd needed to change strategies a bit? She actually _had_ a girlfriend. And she'd been having to lay low on the intimacy too long - especially considering their relationship was new.

"Okay, so. Let's try again. Natasha is my girlfriend. And we do lots of stuff together. I like being around her and she likes being around me. But I also have my friends for _Dungeons and Dragons_ and _World of Warcraft._ Natasha has her friends for exhibitionist martial arts stuff. We both have our friends for drinking and dancing. We have meaningful relationships, some overlap, some don't. They can change and evolve, too. This is all normal and okay. It's how life works."

"I know that," Castiel said irritably. But he looked unconvinced. This reality - he didn't see it as something that would ever apply to him, Sam, or Dean. Charlie could feel pity starting inside of her, then started feeling stupid for her pity. Pitying an immortal being that had existed thousands or even millions of what her own lifetime would be. Then again, that was also lot longer to deal with all the same types of drama she would have as a very short-lived being. She couldn't help but feel conflicted about what her reactions should be to Castiel's struggles with understanding humanity, family, or friendship.

"Can I ask you something before I head out to the dance floor - if you couldn't have Sam or Dean anymore, what would you do?"

"I don't think about that. And I am well-equipped to protect the Winchesters." She rolled her eyes. She didn't need to be an angel to know that even he didn't believe he would always be able to adequately save Dean and Sam.

"Fine then, lowering the bets just a little: What about being in a situation where you could only save one or the other? Hypothetically, like your powers go dysfunctional or something? Suddenly you're one friend less in the world. Who? How do you see that changing things? I mean... They're not exactly in the long-and-healthy-life industry. And I get the feeling in that situation you'd basically be screwed either way."

"I would save Sam," Castiel said without a moment's hesitation. "And... I like to hope we would still be able to be friends afterward."

Interesting.

"Why Sam? I sort of had the impression that the relationship between you and Dean was a bit more intense."

"It is," Castiel admitted. "Not that Sam isn't important to me. But Dean would prioritize Sam over himself in that situation. So I would prioritize the same way, to please Dean. Saving Dean would be counter-productive - he would hate both me and himself. His entire existence. My entire existence."

"But Dean would be dead. And Sam probably wouldn't forgive you either - you can't tell me you think he doesn't have the same feelings about Dean. That's part of the whole family thing." He looked at her. "Don't look at me like that. I just have adopted family instead of biological family, and if you weren't lying earlier about knowing peoples' histories you know blood bond's a load of shit. But you tell me I wouldn't die on a dime to save the people I've taken in as family."

Castiel gave a nod of his head, accepting her point.

"Samandriel is dead. He had needed my help. I failed him. If Dean could have..." he looked down at the table and put a finger on his forgotten beer sitting on the table. "If Samandriel and I had both been in that abandoned building, and Dean could have only saved one of us. I would have wanted him to save Samandriel. He knew that and that's what he tried to do - prioritize getting to Samandriel instead of helping me."

He smiled sadly, not looking back up at her. "I have all the perspective I need to see why I would need to choose Sam if that situation should ever occur. Even if Sam would loathe that decision as well, it would be the right decision. And ultimately, how long are either of them likely to live? I would give anything for them to live very long, full lives, but even their longest life would leave me alone in a time-span so meaningless to me. Their deaths could happen tomorrow or sixty years from now. To me both will feel like the same amount of time. And I don't think by the end of all this I'll be able to get back to Heaven. In the end, I will be alone."

It was a buzz-killer that left her and Castiel both in an awkward silence. Charlie downed her beer in less than twenty seconds and thanked God she hadn't gotten into that conversation with Natasha around - they didn't both need to be depressed tonight. He made no move to start drinking his own, so she downed that one, too. It was definitely time to give in to alcohol-induced bliss. She handed Castiel a few dollars.

"So, if you want, you can come dance with us. You can get another beer on me. Even get you something stronger if you want. But Natasha and I have a mission to socialize and I figure we have up to two hours before going back to the motel is likely to interrupt their defunct sleep cycle."

Charlie stood up and started moving her way through the bar toward a small area set aside for those who wanted to dance. She made her way over to Natasha, moving to a dance that had absolutely nothing to do with the music actually playing in the bar, just to get moving, and enjoyed Natasha laughter as she watched her hair fly around and the movement of her arms over her head. Natasha and she spent quite some time simply having fun and maintaining light conversation with others. As they danced, others began to come out and dance as well - made bold by those on the floor dancing without regard to the others around them, as well as the alcohol.

But then occasionally the music would get slower, and Natasha would gently grab Charlie's arms and place them on her hips, moving her own arms back up to Charlie's shoulders, and they danced more slowly. Charlie rested her head on Natasha's chest, until Natasha decided to twirl her for fun. Charlie tried to do the same in kind - made much more awkward by the height difference. The two of them laughed, smiled, and would move their heads to whisper into the other's ear frequently.

Castiel watched the dance floor, enjoying the view of people having some simple recreational fun. He thought he could understand what Charlie had been trying to explain to him as he saw them interacting with others, people with whom they could share camaraderie, and wished he could see Dean and Sam Winchester have things like that in their lives. It was possible he even felt some envy. Looking at the two of them, he thought dancing looked as though it could be fun.

But internally, Castiel strongly doubted he could never be human enough to dance.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have completely given up on naming chapters and writing out summaries; I'll work it out at the end when I'm editing. I'm trying to use a word-processor now because of the bug with previewing edits on chapters past the first one, but it messes up the formatting so it looks like I'll just be posting and then editing posts. 
> 
> (Read: I strongly recommend NOT subscribing; I edit a lot and it tends to bug people even when I'm mostly in the final draft stage. I feel obligated to warn people about my frequent-editing superpowers that get people running and screaming the other direction.)

When they returned, Natasha and Charlie stumbled as quietly as they could through the entryway and crawled onto the bed closest to the door in a drunken stupor. The two of them quickly forgot Castiel at the entryway of the motel, and Castiel closed the door and made his way to one of the motel's chairs to sit quietly, though he doubted they would have concerned themselves much with his presence either way.

Five minutes after crawling into bed, they had both fallen asleep. Castiel knew they had been conspiring to engage in some degree of sexual activity on their way home - but they had apparently depleted themselves of any energy to do so. He looked over at the other bed with Dean sleeping on it, glad that Dean's sleep had somehow remained undisturbed. Although he was frustrated - for reasons unknown - that Dean and Sam still hadn't shared the logistics of their attack with him yet.

Dean looked peaceful - and while Castiel normally had no need to sleep himself, the few occasions he had found need had been enjoyable. There was a sentimental feeling to watching others sleep and remembering the experience. Dean had obviously been planning on sharing the bed with Sam that night - he was using a jacket instead of the cover, and staying on the left-hand side. The two of them had probably thought Castiel was staying tonight and thought it would be less disruptive to keep the floor clear.

Sam, however, was not in the bed at the moment, nor did its covers show signs of having been used. Which begged the question: Where was Sam?

He contemplated looking for the Chevy Impala. If he found Sam, it was possible he would find answers to the plans. However, there was the risk that he would do something to raise their suspicions if he began sounding desperate or prying on knowing specific details. Seeking Sam for no reason other than curiosity would be something likely to raise suspicions. Better to wait. Better to make a concerned phone call if Sam failed to return shortly.

In the meantime, he could watch Dean's dreams - it was possible he would find relevant information there. The thought put some comfort into the unnamed peculiarity inside him.

Mind-reading was not a guaranteed measure of accuracy, even when a person was awake. The complications, however, changed drastically in a conscious person versus an unconscious person. When awake, a person often had more organized thoughts, but could lie to themselves in mind as well as to others aloud.

He had noticed humans were very adept at lying to themselves in their waking moments.

If a person was conscious, the things Castiel would pick up were simply the things a person was being loudest about - which were not necessarily the same things Castiel was looking for. And while he had never told Dean and Sam the specific rules of mind-reading, conscious humans even without that knowledge often seemed to be concerned about whether their thoughts were appropriate or not. Almost as if they worried mind-reading were a commonplace among their own kind. Dean and Sam _knowing_ they were around someone who could read minds had raised their abilities to maintain distracted and irrelevant thoughts to an art-form.

In support of reading conscious minds, it was easy to try to manipulate a person's thoughts if they were awake. Thoughts being manipulated by external stimuli when conscious was completely natural. If Dean saw someone beautiful walk past him, he would think about that. It became a matter of whether it had relevance to the person, how much, and how comfortable they were thinking it. Or how skilled they were at deflecting the thought if it made them uncomfortable.

The unconscious and spying on dreams posed entirely different problems. The thoughts were often disjointed, half-formed with elements of reality and fiction blended together. The person would not control their thoughts - except for lucid dreams. The motivations of subconscious thoughts were very difficult to interpret - Castiel knew many books dedicated themselves to dream interpretation, but as far as he could tell the majority of it was a crap-shoot. There could be at least five ways of interpreting most dreams, and knowing which one was correct for any individual was almost impossible.

In some ways the manipulation of the subconscious was easier - Castiel didn't have to worry about the context of manipulating a person's thoughts. Still, if the thought he put out caused any discomfort or struck the subject as alien to them they would startle and wake. He'd found this true even if he was attempting to help change the course of a nightmare into a good dream. If it didn't function with the natural direction of things it would be jarring to the subject. This was especially true for Dean since he had experienced the presence of angels in his dreams before.

Castiel decided to take the risk, and as soon as he willed it, he was completely tuned into Dean's thoughts as he slept. The peaceful look on Dean he had seen before he had entered the dream belied what was happening inside.

He was dreaming of Castiel - more specifically, unpleasant flashbacks. Castiel being left behind in Purgatory. Finding out he had intended to be left behind. His depression and subsequent disappearance. The later despondency. 

Guilt twisted inside of him, and for a moment it seemed almost like the strange digging in his mind stopped. This discovery was almost a reasonable explanation for their secrecy with him - he was perceived as damaged and fragile by Sam and Dean.

He supposed it was better than finding out Dean hated him. He had sufficient reason to. Castiel had caused more destruction than any of the monsters they had ever hunted both directly and indirectly. He was completely aware that if he had been anyone less significant to them, he would have been declared fair game for hunting long ago. 

This discovery was _almost_ enough.

In the back of his mind, the need to dig began to come back, incessant. Tired of his concern and guilt. It wanted to know what the plans for Crowley were. And even though he felt slightly troubled about this, there was some vague instinct telling him this was wrong, but he couldn't really justify his concerns. So instead he carefully considered how to manipulate mind to something likely to make him think of the mission. Something small and natural. Castiel decided to put out the thought of Kevin Tran. The prophet wouldn't cause the anger that direct thoughts of Crowley would, but his role with regards to the tablet would probably invoke some feelings of Crowley indirectly. It was a success - and in spite of the nature of his dream-manipulating, he felt a little pleased that he had managed to achieve his goal well. It meant he closely understood Dean from his own narrative of the world.

The response was conflicting: Dean _did_ want to capture Crowley, and reclaim the tablet. But Dean's thoughts were fairly pessimistic in spite of their planning. Crowley was often good at turning things his way and escaping from traps. And desperate people had nothing to lose - which well-described Crowley with half a tablet and no prophet, and him carrying everything of value in his coat seemed a far-fetched idea.

Why so much effort on a mission Dean felt was sure to fail? He cursed in his mind as the scope changed - he had thought 'too loudly' and Dean's mind was responding. Castiel's initial thought was to pull out of the dream, but the thoughts hardly flinched. Castiel steadied himself and watched Dean's thoughts flashed images of Samandriel and Castiel. He would have frowned, if he had a figure in Dean's mind at the moment. The thing inside him kept ticking. Or maybe this time it was just him. It was hard to tell, when everything suddenly seemed to be on the same page.

Was this just an elaborate attempt at vigilante justice? To what end? The tablet would be lost for good. He needed more details.

But then the scene around became more defined. Dean was beginning to have a lucid dream. Castiel's manipulations would be felt. He pulled back out almost completely - just able to watch and consider from the chair he had been sitting in before.

It seemed a pleasant dream. It focused on the future - or a future - which was rare for Dean because he often focused on the past and current burdens. And in reality, Castiel knew Dean normally didn't imagine himself having a future at all. Though this wasn't a complete deviation - he was imagining his brother having a future more than himself. A family. In the dream, Dean was simply a visitor. It was strange to witness the lucid dream - Castiel could feel Dean wanted to try to imagine things more in depth. Things such as a few years down the road, or Sam being a father. He stayed on the brink,of wanting to imagine all his dreams, worried if he blew it and over-stepped his boundaries he would wake up.

Castiel was carefully absent from the dream as well - his more recent actions had shaken his idea of Castiel as a permanent figure in his life. He decided he had seen enough and pulled himself away from Dean's mind as completely as he could.

It had been perfect timing - less than a minute after he heard Sam at the door of the motel. Sam walked in quietly, bringing food. Castiel walked up to greet him.

"Hey Cas."

He placed the bag of food on the table and then the drink before sitting back down. Pulled out his computer and turned it on, and started on a piece of chicken, followed by opening a beer. He looked at Castiel for a moment as though he were thinking about something. Finally, he offered some food to his friend. Sam knew it wouldn't be accepted, but otherwise it felt awkward and rude. When he simply shook his head and sat across from him, Sam continued forward with his chicken and beer.

"So, I notice Dean isn't prepared to explain what's going on," Castiel said coolly. 

Sam gave him a sideways smile. "Well, he says he needs 'four hours.' But sometimes you have to give or take a few, and I didn't feel like sleeping so I might as well take over. I know what we're doing tomorrow, anyway."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we decided to really push it forward. Can't take planning anymore - Dean's about ready to blow a gasket. Patience and planning, they aren't really his thing."

He pulled out a napkin and pen. "So I guess I'll give you the basics?"

He outlined the area. It had been an old factory building, with a few offices, and Crowley was to be placed in the middle. Sam carefully noted the different exits and how they had been blocked, even showing where windows had been dealt with. One of the rooms was going to be rumored as having Kevin Tran inside. Crowley wouldn't want to leave that to henchmen, not when so much was at stake.

"We have it mostly salted, but there are a few breaks."

"Crowley will notice if he cannot easily get in or out," Castiel pointed out.

Sam grinned. "We've actually made it look pretty easy to get in or out, like we're only trying to defend a few rooms. But the whole perimeter of the building is ready to be salted in a New York minute. Plus - check it out - we got the _storm_ _drains_ around the factory ready to be filled with holy water, and have dug out some shallow trenches here," he pointed out the locations on the napkin, "so that will mean no breaks anywhere. We've been filling the whole damn thing." He grinned, pleased with their work. They had adapted it from a story John had told them of keeping demons from following him in the past. "They'll be able to get past it soon enough - I mean, a car or whatever could get them past it - but it'll probably be a pretty nasty shock initially." 

"Then there's the perimeter of the building, and it's all been salted except the areas Natasha and Charlie are going to cover when Dean gives the signal. Like I said, once we get started, it'll be a New York Minute. Charlie and Natasha have been helping us, too - we've got a moat set up for the salt, and the door. I mean, moat's a strong word - just some wood - but like it's been pointed out to us, it's a hell of a lot better nothing protecting the salt."

Castiel listened to this, absorbing, uncomprehending. This level of planning was a stark change. It seemed they were very intent a beautiful execution.

Sam flipped over the napkin and began drawing the outside. He almost sounded excited enough to raise his voice, feverish, but he glanced back over at the others and dropped his voice back down to a whisper. He looked up at Castiel again, a conspiring tone to his voice. "And it gets better. We've got these - north, south, east, and west..." He drew squares on the napkin. "These are locations with things drawn with demon draps on the bottom. No big deal sitting with a big pile of wood..."

"But you put them out and it makes the place a minefield for demons," Castiel finished. He could see why this had been taking a long time.

"Right. There's tons of them. Some are pretty cheaply made, will break apart pretty easily and fast. Others are really strong, heavy, and it'll be really easy to exorcise or kill them. I mean, we kinda just had to use what we could get for free. Lifting scrap metal, or cardboard, or rugs from the junkyard. That's where you come in - we need someone spreading these things. So that's two external barriers, followed by two inside. We've disconnected water, electricity, gas, and basically everything else in the building that could have gotten in our way."

"And Crowley? He's always been very good at noticing demon traps. Not perfect but... well above others. How will he be tricked into walking into this office?"

That had been the hardest part of this whole plan. "Well, at first Kevin wanted to use himself as bait --"

"That is an unacceptable risk."

"Well, yeah. So that idea for outside the building? The stuff with demon traps on them? Got it inside, too. In fact, have it ready so that we can slip demon traps down the walls. North wall, south wall. We'd thought about doing lights, but again, didn't want electricity."

He looked up at Castiel, expecting him to look pleased. It had so many fallbacks that they had no reason to believe they couldn't get at least a few hours with Crowley, if they wanted it. But instead, he looked irritated. He glared at Sam.

Sam kept his mind explicitly focused on the details he had just shared, as well as just focusing on Castiel's face. Challenging him to find anything else. Or maybe even just trying to dare Castiel to break their trust and have him read his mind. Castiel leaned back instead, trying to look concerned, with a bit of exasperation for grunt duty. The thoughts were very loud and focused - to a point where it was hard not to notice even with Castiel's usual regard for their privacy. 

That was deflection loud in the conscious person's mind. A very hard attempt to not think about another thing. Sam was a very smart person, but that had nothing to do with his ability to stay away from thoughts that involved emotions, particularly fear or anger.

"Sounds good. It is a _very_ involved plan. Must make Dean almost bored at the prospect of tomorrow."

Sam grinned. "You have no idea."

Sam started working on the rest of his food. Within a few minutes he had finished and stayed on the computer. He was simply reading an eBook, quietly, next to Castiel. It didn't take long for him to feel uncomfortable. It would have been all right - except Castiel wasn't moving on to other activities himself. He guessed this time of night it was probably for the best Castiel hadn't decided to turn on the television, but would it kill him to grab a book from somewhere and occupy himself? It was awkward to sit next to someone who was doing _nothing_. 

"You know, Cas, comfortable silence doesn't last very long if you're not occupied."

"But you are occupied."

"I am, but _you're_ not and it gets creepy. Find something to do, talk if you need to, but sitting and staring at people is even creepier when someone's awake to know just how creepy you're being."

Sam waited for Castiel to vanish, or something. But instead he spoke.

"Are you going to hunt forever?"

"No."

He saw Castiel staring at him. "Hey, I'm serious. I know I turned down Amelia to keep helping Dean this time, but we're both tired. I don't know if Dean can actually move on from fighting, but I can. Will. But I want to make something for myself when that stuff's over and done with."

Crossing over from the war and the monsters in the closet seemed like a journey across a vast sea of blood, gore, and other crappy filth to reach a small island. He'd been better about his trip to hell, at least, since Castiel had taken his issues. It at least gave him hope - he wasn't dead or locked up in a ward. He owed Castiel a lot. He'd betrayed them, but on the other hand, the end result of breaking the wall between Sam and his experiences in Hell had been taking on all that illness himself. As a result, his well being was more stable. The circumstances about it had been messy, but either way, he had a new lease on life.

He just needed to make sure Dean would be okay, too. He saw Castiel shift, very slightly. Sam really hated mind-reading, even if Castiel normally tried to give them their privacy.

"Dean doesn't trust me anymore," Castiel said idly. He played with one of the buttons on his tan trenchcoat. "I may have ruined our friendship. And he thinks I will abandon him"

Sam shrugged and sighed. "Dean's not an easy person to ruin a friendship with. He's let down, but give him time and you'll wind up in his good graces again. Maybe talk to him next time before flinging yourself into oblivion for an eternity."

"I wasn't gone for an eternity."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but that's what you were planning on, and you didn't get out on your own as far as we know. So it being less than eternity doesn't actually count. I mean, I get you were messed up and depressed. That you are depressed. And that's okay, but I'll be honest - hurt my brother again like that and I will be the one to figure out a way to hunt you down." He pointed at Castiel and then himself, "You and I know him better than anyone else in the world, and after all that time in Purgatory, I would think your importance to him would have meant something."

He thought about opening his notebook computer and reading more. But Castiel was still just sitting in the chair and watching the room. Sam sighed inwardly: He was going to have to try to fall asleep with Castiel sitting in the chair regardless of what he did in the meantime. At least, until he thought of something he would have come up with before the conversation started if he hadn't been sleep-deprived and very slightly buzzed by the alcohol.

"Hey, Cas. I'm going to go to sleep. Why don't you try reading a book?"

Castiel nodded and Sam opened up the eReader program on his computer, selecting _Harry Potter: The Sorcerer's Stone_. "Okay, here you go. There are seven books so if you finish one just move on. See you in a few hours."

He didn't really care if Castiel read or not, so long as he _looked_ like he was focusing on something other than him. He thought Castiel probably understood, however, because he got intently settled in front of the notebook as Sam settled himself into bed. He saw Dean shift - waking up to the bed moving - but he fell asleep as soon as he saw things were still safe.

Sam closed his eyes, too, and tried to settle into his own peace for the night.


	9. Chapter Nine

Sam and Dean woke up well before anyone else and decided they were going to go out and purchase breakfast. It was early in the morning - the motel alarm clock was broken, but Dean looked quickly at his cell phone to see it was four in the morning. There was no light in the room - not because of the quality of the business, but because the maintenance was so far behind in the building that a few bad fuses had managed to go ignored.

Sam looked over at Charlie and Natasha in time to hear Charlie give out a large snort and shift. Dean smirked, and gave a slight shake of his head. They would have to come back to the room anyway - there was no point in waking them up. Castiel looked up at Sam and Dean, standing up from the table and moving over as Dean gave a slight nod that he was welcome to join.

They made their way out to the car, Castiel taking the back seat while Sam sat on the passenger side. Dean climbed in, started the car and began making his way to a local bakery that he had found to open early since they had arrived in town, and had pie, danishes, and other things the four of them all enjoyed in the mornings. Sam leaned back in the seat, relaxing and closing his eyes. Dean looked over at him quickly before turning back to the wheel.

"Didn't get enough sleep?"

"No, it's just... early." He continued to keep his eyes closed.

"Because if you didn't get enough sleep and I'm dealing with three dead-weights later today I'm going to be a bit pissed."

Sam rolled his eyes over at him while Castiel shrunk in the back looked as though he were trying hard not to be noticed. "I really am fine. I just had a bit of a hard time sleeping. I'll shake it off after the sun rises and I get some coffee."

Dean's eyes moved to the rear-view mirror, to Sam with a knowing expression, and back to make eye contact with Castiel.

"See?" he chided, "Watching people sleep is _creepy_. Sam wouldn't look more tired if a clown had been sitting by his bed all night."

" _Dean._ "

He gave out a low, short laugh and went quiet again. Sam waited for a moment to see if Dean had anything else to say, then went back to relaxing. He didn't need to fall asleep, he just wanted to rest his eyes. And he would hum or move his head in response when Dean made a comment about their plans later. After another two minutes Dean started singing along to the music in his car, and Sam felt really relaxed.

It felt like a long time, but in reality it couldn't have been more than ten minutes when Dean pulled the car over across the street from the bakery. Next to it was a locally-owned coffee shop, _Jumping Beans_ , also open. The three of them split up - Dean giving Castiel a card to buy food from the bakery while he and Sam could go next door and order a few good kick-starting drinks for the day. Sam eyed Castiel a little warily - Dean hadn't trusted him with any of the credit cards or even purchases before - but his memory was excellent and made him a good choice for remembering everyone's favorites.

Sam ordered the coffee, the barista looking up at him and smiling shyly, as though trying to hide her mouth. She had dark brown almond eyes, black hair and clear skin - a little tall, as well, not that it would look that way to anyone when the people standing by her were both well over six feet. Dean smirked.

"She's cute. Obviously used to be the kid with braces and thick glasses a few years back... but eventually she'll figure herself out."

The two of them went to the other end of the counter while waiting for their drinks to be prepared, Dean glancing back over to the entrance to see if Castiel had finished buying breakfast. But Sam looked the other way, to the two tables on the other side, and his mouth dropped in shock as he raised his eyebrows. He moved slightly to get a better look at her dark skin, curly hair, her brown eyes.

He had met the woman sitting in the back before. She started as she saw him and he tapped Dean, whose face then mirrored Sam's in shock.

It was Cassie Robinson.

She smiled, looked to a man sitting across from her at the two-person table, and came up. He looked around and back, still holding his drink - a simple water. Sam seemed to collect himself and Dean finally seemed to find his words. His face broke out into a huge smile as he pulled her into a hug.

"Cassie, what are you doing here? It's been years."

She pushed him away to hold him at an arm's length, so she could look him in the eye while she answered. Dean and Sam quickly sobered up at the sight of her - it was clear her visit to down wasn't coincidental. "I got this strange call from some woman that said you Sam were gonna need help the other day and that I had to drive myself all the way out to the middle of nowhere by, well, today. She called herself Missouri Mosely?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other. It was another name of someone they knew, but hadn't seen in a while. People they had lost contact with a long time ago - even before the two of them knew angels were real and that the Apocalypse had been nigh.

Cassie saw the recognition in their faces and continued. "Yeah. Her. She was really insistent on its urgency - 'lives are in the balance' level of importance - so I dropped everything and started driving. And here I am. Not the only person to become party of the Missouri Mosely crew either." She moved her head in the direction of the dark-haired man sitting across from her, jerking her thumb in his direction as though it had to be made clearer.

"Apparently this man got a call as well. He's looking for a someone he calls Natasha?"

The man looked around, hearing Natasha's name, and decided it was time to introduce himself as well. Dean looked him up and down - the man was about the same height as him. He had dark olive skin with a slender build, and his hair was curly. He felt himself almost feeling jealous before reminding himself that this man wasn't actually _with_ Cassie, just looking for Charlie's girlfriend.

Right before reminding himself it wasn't his job to care who Cassie was with at all. Cassie moved back from Dean enough to allow the man to introduce himself to Dean and Sam, moving to Dean's side. He smiled and held out his hand to shake.

"Qasim. Pleased to meet you."

"Dean." 

Qasim looked around the corner slightly before letting go of Dean's hand to shake Sam's.

"So Qasim," Sam started, "You were called by Missouri too?"

"Yes, she told me I would find Natasha out here. I haven't seen her in a long time and lost touch with her some time back." He bit his lip. "I've been worried. Especially when I received a call from a random stranger saying Natasha was in danger - I would have thought it was a joke, except she knew too much about Natasha for me to dismiss her. Then I found Cassie here. With a call from the same person. Waiting for you two." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Protectively. "So why isn't she here with you? Where is Natasha?"

"She was still asleep when we left," Sam reassured. "We were doing a breakfast and coffee run. She's not alone, though."

Qasim relaxed. Sam decided to try and find out a bit more about Qasim before bringing him back to the motel.

"So how do you know her?"

He looked at Sam as though the answer was obvious - which illicited an amused twitch to Dean's lip. "She's my younger sister."

"You two don't really..." Dean gestured. "Well, look alike." Sam's eyes moved over and his brow pinched slightly, as if to signal Dean was getting into things that weren't his business.

"Half-sister," Qasim elaborated. "But I don't really draw that sort of distinction. I've known her my whole life. Her mother raised the both of us until Natasha left."

"Sorry," Sam said. "Dean's mouth can get away from him at times." Qasim nodded, but didn't appear satisfied. He and Cassie were still here with too many unanswered questions. And until he saw Natasha with his own eyes, Qasim was concerned. Dean was oppositely affected - seeing Qasim's visible tension and protectiveness for Natasha relaxed him a few notches and made him more inclined to trust his knowledge.

Though if Missouri Mosely had sent him and Cassie, Dean knew his and Sam's concerns were probably for nothing.

The café was small enough that having the four of them all in the same corner was beginning to feel very crowded. Sam noticed with immediate relief Castiel finally making his way through the entrance, bag at hand. He slowed down, looking at Dean, Sam, and the two strangers on each side and tilted his head inquisitively.

Hurriedly, Dean filled Castiel in on things as the barista called over that their order was ready, and Sam went to grap the drinks. 

"Qasim, Cassie, we ordered before we knew you were here," Sam said apologetically. "Do you want us to grab you anything before we go?"

"We ate. We honestly had no idea when we'd find you here - just that you'd be here 'in the morning.'"

Dean grinned and clapped a hand on Sam's back. "Awesome. One less thing to worry about. The two of you can follow us back - it's called - get this - 'Motel California.' Probably our last day there, but if not we're definitely getting more rooms. As if five people hadn't been enough."

Qasim cracked a crooked smile. "Probably a good idea."

"Cas, Sam, let's go."

And the five of them headed back to what was quickly becoming a temporary base-camp.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has explicit content between Charlie and Natasha, so I have made it so if you cannot read material that isn't safe for work you can skip without missing anything important. 
> 
> I've never written explicit content before so... This will be the most interesting draft to work with later when I get to it.

Natasha groaned and gripped her head. She had known that last night was going to be trouble, and she and Charlie probably should have considered that. Looking around, she noticed Sam, Dean, and Castiel were gone. It was early morning - which meant they went on the breakfast run without them. Fine by her, since it gave her a chance to grab the purse underneath her side of the bed and pull out a few Advil and a small water bottle, chugging them down in a fast instant. Like clockwork, she felt Charlie stirring next to her on the other side of the bed.

"Ready for later today?" she murmured over to Charlie. She hummed a vague affirmative, trying to avoid becoming alert. Natasha thought about the events that were supposed to unfold later that day. She knew that the risks were great, but she felt a strong sense of calm. It was normal for her, to push off feelings, to keep it all under her thumb until the safety of a completed task meant the anxiety and fear could let everything else come crashing down. Charlie put a lot of stock into her ability to maintain composure. Thought she was fearless. The truth was less simple. She just knew what had to be done, had to be done.

Not that she thought Charlie was any different, when you got down to the core of the matter. It was just easier to not notice the fear in others than it is to not notice the fear inside of youself.

Noticing Charlie was still trying to nod back off to sleep, she grinned mischieviously and very lightly brushed her fingers across up Charlie's side, then dipped her touch closer to the navel. Her skin twitched slightly, and she shivered and hummed again, turning a little, enjoying the touch but not enough to really wake up. _Well_ , Natasha _thought, time to try a little harder_. She repeated the motion to get another shiver out of Charlie and dipped her mouth where the shoulder and neck met, kissing lightly while slowly moving two fingers up toward Charlie's breasts. Natasha bit her lip and tried to hold back a grin as Charlie hummed more deeply and turned into her, moving her hand to Natasha's waist and rubbing slightly. Obviously torn between sex, and between trying to stay asleep a few extra short minutes before breakfast. Natasha lightly nipped at Charlie's shoulder in response to this stubbornness and her fingers gently took hold of one nipple, rubbing lightly in circles as she went back to kissing Charlie - this time focused on the ear, breathing, playfully tugging with her teeth.

"We haven't had an opportunity this good in weeks," she whispered into Charlie's ear. She dragged her hand gently up, away from Charlie's chest, instead gently taking the other side of Charlie's face to turn her neck and kiss her lips, moving down to under the chin. Charlie turned further, so her neck wasn't twisting anymore and reached her hand down Natasha's back, massaging gently.

It was true, everyone had been in cramped quarters. Charlie didn't want to risk anything tracing back to her - so even though hacking would be easy, she refrained. "I have to use my superpowers for _good_ ," she had insisted. Saving animals and fighting for labor rights, sure. But for her own personal room, it was a no-go.

Likewise, Dean and Sam's scamming relied on subtlety, which had led to the awkward boarding. And for them it had been even less comfortable - both of them being fairly large.

Charlie began to get more into what Natasha was doing, started to reciprocate more. They met each other's lips, kissing more deeply with open mouths, and Charlie grasped one breast in her hand while massaging it with her thumb, the other reaching down to grab Natasha's ass before sliding further, between her thighs, to tease. Natasha responded by pressing her hips closer to Charlie's and sighing at the touch, and Charlie chuckled softly.

"Just a bit luckier than Sam and Dean lately, huh," Natasha kissed down Charlie's neck, down her chest, licking a nipple and massaging it, shifting her body so she could use the other hand to trail down and begin rubbing at Charlie's crotch, which earned her a slightly desperate gasp. Charlie decided to respond by being a little more rough, grabbing Natasha tightly, adding a few degrees to her nips at Natasha's shoulder, gently kissing her collarbone with an open mouth. But Natasha simply responded by teasing further - stroking lightly the inside of Charlie's thighs, teasing as though she were about to rub her clit before circling back down. Charlie tried to get some friction between her legs, using Natasha's.

Natasha wasn't letting that happen. Instead she pushed Charlie so she would be on her back and underneath her, straddling her at the waist and began to play a little more roughly, teashing at her hair, playing with an ear, mouthing her breasts and continuing to rub and stroke, caressing her body with her other hand, and moving toward and from between Charlie's legs without applying any real pressure.

"Stop being mean," Charlie muttered. She began to move one of her own hands toward Natasha's own thighs and rested another on her hip, lightly massaging with her thumb. But Natasha flinched. It was small, but it was barely there.

"I'm... I'm not ready, not yet," Natasha admitted. She couldn't see Charlie well enough to notice if the look in her eyes was disappointment. She didn't respond with words, but Natasha knew her decline had been accepted when instead Charlie went back to rubbing, stroking, massaging. Natasha leaned over further, giving her better access to kiss and fondle - which she enjoyed, if she was still going to be limited. Reciprocating she moved one shoulder to massage the back of Charlie's neck, and moved back a bit again so she could begin rubbing along Charlie's labia, causing Charlie to jerk her hips up and try to get more friction at her clit. Natasha laughed.

"Would you at least stop teasing?" gritted Charlie, hips still moving. Natasha pretended to consider, then began pulling her hand away, which earned a moan from Charlie.

"Please, don't stop."

Natasha mouthed Charlie's collar boan again, moving back down to her breasts, then continuing down to the navel and dipping her tongue. Charlie kept trying to move her hips, but Natasha started leaning into her, immobilizing her as much as she could, starting to trail her arms farther down. Charlie moaned again, breathing harder, and Natasha had finally decided it was enough teasing. She began rubbing Charlie's clit, getting into a rhthym, grinding into her before moving herself back between Charlie's legs, leaning back down to start kissing down her abdomen, kissing and rubbing inside her thighs. Having moved down, Charlie's hips moved more again, trying to get more friction from Natasha's hand again.

She moved back up toward the labia and rubbed more at her clit, pushing Charlie's legs up. Then she began to go at it with her tongue and jaw, using one hand to rub more at Charlie's clit and the other hand to go back at playing with Charlie's nipples. She built a good rhythm, fast, all-out, and Charlie started moving under her more desperately, muscles tightening and loosening, going with the rythym and maximizing the sensation as much as possible. Charlie groaned again, moving her hand down rubbing Charlie's shoulders.

Natasha wasn't sure when the others would get back and decided she should move things along, focusing her tongue and lips on going all out on the clit, going at it harder, no teeth, quickly and deeply. She began getting rougher with her hands, tugging and thumbing Charlie's nipples, massaging her breast.

"Shit!" Charlie felt heat and tension building inside. Natasha thought briefly about lifting her head to make a snide comment but instead twisted her tongue, fingered just slightly rougher and Charlie came, gasping. It wasn't the most exciting sex they had done, certainly, but she was pleased they had managed to get some time in.

Charlie pulled her up, kissed her, and continued fondling Natasha's breast lightly. "You really sure you don't want me to do anything?"

Natasha smiled and buried her face into Charlie's neck. "Soon, just, not now."

Charlie moved her head so she could look down at Natasha. Her face was solemn. "We might not have as long as you think."

Natasha put her arm around Charlie and squeezed. "I'm not going to live like today's my last day on Earth. I have a long and healthy life ahead of me. And I'm going to do things how I want and when I want. And I do want... But I'm not ready quite yet." She went back to nuzzling against Charlie's neck, leaning into her. Charlie pulled and tugged at their clothes so they'd be presentable.

"Should we get showered and dressed?"

Natasha smirked. "Nah, they'll know what's up for sure if we're totally ready before they get back. I am going to get a drink, though." She pulled herself up and went to the bathroom to take a glass of water as Charlie fell back into the bed.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Almost as if on cue, Charlie heard people approaching the door and someone working at the key entrance. From the sound of it, there wasn't any light out in the parking lot - it took several times scraping for the person at the door to get the door unlocked. Finally Sam opened the door and poked his head in, a sideways grin, eyebrow quirked. His other hand stuck out awkwardly at his side. "We picked up a few things up while we were out."

Dean and Castiel entered the room, coffee and food in hand, passing Sam at the door. That motivated Charlie, she got up to claim a few things for herself. On her other side Natasha came out of the bathroom, chugging a glass of water as though she hadn't seen any in days.

Sam finally stopped hanging by the door and came in - and the reason for his awkward posture earlier became apparent to Charlie as Qasim and Cassie strode into the room. Charlie hadn't met either yet and was simply a bit curious. However, Natasha shrieked with delight and ran to the door to pull Qasim into her arms, a full-on bear hug, almost dropping the water in her right hand. Then she moved back and held him out at arm's length, grinning ear-to-ear.

"I don't think I've seen you in almost three years!" She pulled him back into another embrace, holding him tightly as he pretended to choke. She let him go so he could stand back and speak for himself.

"I've been so worried about you!"

Charlie grinned, having figured out who at least the new man in the group was. She hadn't yet met Qasim, and soon she was being towed over by Natasha for some introductions. Sam moved over to the table where Cassie, Dean and Castiel had set down food. Cassie floated over to Qasim to meet Natasha, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you, Natasha. I've heard a lot about you this morning."

"From Qasim?" Natasha grinned. "He must like you. Otherwise he'd keep me private."

"Hey!" he protested, "You know I only like to give you your privacy, Niyah. Besides, you're the one that ditched me."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Did not. You know things were a bit rough when Mom and Dad decided to get... testy."

Qasim gave a sad smile. "I still hope they come around. In the meantime... I'm glad you've been making friends."

"So, we updated your brother and Cassie on the plan for today," Sam said slowly. It received double-looks from Charlie and Natasha - Charlie a look of dismay while Natasha looked furious, about to argue. She fell silent as Dean and Sam both cut her a glance.

"Cassie and Qasim are supposed to be here. I guess. Just... Trust us on this one," Sam explained. 

Natasha wanted to argue. It was the first time she'd felt bad about this journey. Sam and Dean requesting Charlie get involved? Fine. Charlie wanting to bring her? Fine. But not her brother. Her brother wasn't a part of this mission. And she was on the verge of yelling at them for letting him even get back to the motel, if letting him fight with them had been an original part of the plan - but it was a lost cause. Qasim wasn't going to leave knowing she was putting herself in danger. Sam and Dean were used to putting each other in danger all the time. She could have this battle all day and nothing would come of it. Clearly not the best time to get mad at them for bringing the only family she really had left into this. 

"So we're gonna be seeing hellhounds today," Dean shifted, his eyes moved down for a moment before coming back to look at everyone. It was a split second, but Charlie and Natasha had both been spending all their free time with Dean and Sam for weeks. They both saw it.

Oh. He did _not_ like hellhounds.

Charlie pretended she hadn't noticed. Natasha, not as much. "No worries, Dean," she said easily, injecting her voice with as much bravado as possible. "You've got the Abrahamic Trinity in here. Nothing better to go at an army of demons - or hellhounds - with."

Dean looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Really. 'Abrahamic Trinity?'"

"Yeup." She pointed between herself and Qasim. "My mom and I are Jewish, his mom was Roman Catholic, and he and our dad are Muslim." As the others in the room glanced over at her, she held up her hands. "Hey, I didn't say our family history was _boring_."

Sam and Dean gave each other a look. "Yeah, well. I don't really believe in that sort of luck."

Natasha grinned at the vote of confidence through her next bite. It wasn't as though she had been serious, anyway.

"So how are Qasim and Cassie going to help? They haven't exactly been involved."

Dean grinned. "Already updated, and besides that we could use as many people to salt as possible."

"And tattoos?" Charlie and Natasha had done it - but the anti-possession tattoos were going to be important by the time they went to the warehouse. Qasim and Cassie, obviously, hadn't received the tattoo yet.

"Well," Qasim jumped in, "I had an idea, at least for now. It's the symbol that's important. All we need is the marking on our skin, right?" He glanced over apologetically at Natasha. "Niyah knows how to do henna tattoos - our families use it in certain wedding ceremonies. I figure that will work well enough for us today."

Natasha gave him a sullen look, frustrated to be pulled into preparing him for anything dangerous, but it was true. And if she said 'no' he probably would just pull out a permanent marker. And spend the next two weeks complaining about how unhealthy that was. She grudgingly pulled herself up and went over to her things - she actually still had the supplies she needed.

"Well, hurry up, get ready. The sooner we can go, the better." Dean slapped the table and moved up.

Even having planned everything out, it took several hours for them to actually get everything ready and summon Crowley. The weather, at least, was on their side - cold, but not actively raining or worse. Castiel stood outside, looking impatient. Dean and Sam had already actively moved everyone else to their zones within the building. A few strategically-placed items containing wards awaited out front. Inside, the same strategies were used between different rooms of the warehouses - carefully placed to try as much as possible to make a straight line to what would be, if they were lucky, a prison.

Natasha, Charlie, Qasim, and Cassie loitered inside the building just toward the exits. Each of them carried a bag - with salt, some holy water, spray-paint and a few other assorted items. They each were careful not to tamper with anything that could break a salt line. 

Castiel had given Dean his angel blade before they had left the Chevrolet and Sam carried on him Ruby's knife. 

So. They were ready.

It never took long to do the ceremony to call Crowley, but it had never been as unsettling as it was now. Originally they had thought getting Crowley to respond himself would be impossible - however, Sam had gone ahead of Dean with a plan of his own. He had gone out and moved Kevin Tran around - not much, but enough to spread the rumor that the two of them were spending time together. If that wouldn't convince Crowely, nothing would.

"Crowley, you jackass, you better get yourself down here," Dean muttered. He completed the summoning ritual just outside the room they had layered with Devil's traps.

"Hello, boys."

Both of them jumped around, but after the initial surprise their response was impeccable. Dean leapt at Crowley, pushing him into the room while Sam slammed the door. Outside, this signaled to the others to finish the salt lines around the interior of the building and put up the wards to keep angels out.

"Calm down, calm down," Crowley said. He raised his hands, eyebrows raised. "You have me. As you can see. I must say I am impressed at the effort put into this trap. However... I'm afraid you have the wrong man."

"What do you mean?" Dean demanded. "And you better talk fast because goddammit, I don't have time for bullshit."

"Well, I see you left me a chair." Crowley sat down, calmly, looking almost bored. It had always been easy to get a rise out of the so-called Righteous Man. He continued to look almost as though he was preparing for a manicure, paying close attention to his nails.

Crowley was almost positive that if this world were a cartoon Dean Winchester would now have steam coming out of his ears. Well then. It was probably best to approach this directly before the man came at him with the angel blade.

"As it so happens, Dean Winchester. I have reason for you and your jolly-green giant once again. And while I would very much like to destroy you and steal back the prophet - who I _knew_ you two weren't stupid enough to bring out, by the way, regardless of whatever Joanna told me - this new discovery I have made thanks to your pizza-faced Samandriel requires... your assistance."

" _What did you do to Samandriel? What did he tell you?_ " Dean brandished the angel blade, nearing the edge of the circle.

"Touchy, touchy," Crowley glanced up and down Dean. "... This isn't _just_ about Samandriel, is it? You're worried about your chum. Been acting strange lately? Well, then, what's strange for Castiel, anyway?"

"I swear to God..." Dean started, but Crowley conceded. 

"It doesn't do me any good to sit here and get tortured when I need you working for me, Dean." He pressed on, ignoring Dean's imminent rebuttal. "And, as it so happens, I was going to tell you anyway since it relates to what I need you for."

"And what makes you think I'm going to help you?"

Crowley smiled. "Because what Samandriel told me during our lovely chat was that there is an angel tablet."

It stopped Dean cold. Sam had been staying on the outside of the room to help the others if anyone broke through the walls. But no one had gotten inside, so he could almost hear _Sam_ _'s_ jaw drop, he would have sworn it. No one even seemed to be looking for Crowley. 

Which made sense, if Crowley was telling the truth.

"So," Crowley said calmly. "As you can guess, I _might_ not be your biggest problem, at least, not yet. Assuming you were stupid enough to bring your lover."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Castiel didn't know what was happening. Had Crowley been detained? There were no hellhounds. No demons. In fact, it was eerily quiet outside of the warehouse.

It was also eerily quiet within the warehouse. At some point, the noises he had heard inside seemed to dissipate. He fidgeted, trying to ignore the sense of unease nibbling within. 

Occasionally, he would hear humans talk about having an idea and forgetting it, or walking into a room and forgetting why. This didn't happen to angels. Or at least it had never been an occurrence to an angel before himself. Yet he understood now. He had this feeling that he was _forgetting_ something. All of a sudden many human phrases began to make sense to him - the idea of something being 'on the tip of your tongue' was a thing that only made sense now that he was in that place himself. 

Unfortunately, this not being a natural thing to occur to a being with perfect memory, the meaning behind this could be nothing beneficial. As if to prove his point, he suddenly found himself in a white office room.

Naomi - how did he know her name - leaned over the desk, glaring at him with wide, panicked eyes.

"What's going on in there?" she demanded.

Castiel shrugged. It was a human gesture he had picked up during his time on Earth, and not one his peers would understand. But even as he did, he knew desperately that he shouldn't be responding. His experiences and memories with Naomi - at least, those relevant to him realizing he was a danger to the Winchesters - were flooding back.

"They are... The Winchesters... Are bringing Crowley to the building, hoping to get the demon tablet back from him."

"What do they _know_ , Castiel? Do they know about the angel tablet? What is going on? Why can't you hear inside the building?"

"I don't know."

She looked as though she would screech from frustration. But then she turned around, facing away from him, crossing her arms. "If it weren't for that demon tablet... No. No. Forget the demon tablet."

"I don't..." Castiel began. She turned around, and her voice became tense, cruel.

"It's your fault, Castiel. This is your fault that the demon tablet is half-destroyed and in the hands of a _demon_. And for now? I don't care. We can recover it later. Everything can wait until later. But not if that angel tablet is recovered. Imagine what that could do! What would happen if Crowley had a hold of it? Castiel, the demons would have all the opportunity over us."

Her voice became calm, silky, commanding.

"Kill them."

"What?" Castiel said slowly, disbelieving. He hadn't heard that right. Who would order that of him?

"You heard me, Castiel. Take this blade," she handed him one, knowing his had been given to Dean. "Kill everyone in there. Crowley. Dean, Sam. Everyone. Then we'll attempt to find the angel tablet and hide it before it can fall into demon hands."

"No."

She smiled coldly. "You have no choice, Castiel. Go."

He found himself back in front of the warehouse, with an angel blade in his hand and nothing but murder in his mind.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

There was that moment.

That moment when Dean and Sam had time to realize that they were both utterly fucked, as well as everyone else in the building.

That moment Crowley was giving him a shit-eating grin and he heard Sam running and shouting for Charlie and the others to move because there was going to be trouble. The moment of saying they had to be careful of _Cas_.

Of course. Dean never could get things right, could he? But then, he at least had an idea.

"You. Stay here."

Crowley looked almost bored - but didn't bother to reiterate that he couldn't leave until the traps were removed. Dean left the room, running, pulling out Castiel's angel blade.

"Sam! We gotta get everyone out of here pronto because if it's not Cas it's gonna be Crowley. But everyone tamper the marks that prevent Cas from getting inside first!"

"Dean! I need in!" Castiel roared from outside, and the building shuddered as though it were about to be leveled. And Dean knew the exact moment that last fucking symbol had been desecrated because suddenly Castiel was behind him, blade raised above his head.

"Cas," he whispered.

"... Dean." The blade shuddered slightly in Castiel's eyes. He looked desperate. There was a fight going on in his head somewhere but he was losing, and losing fast. Maybe ten seconds and Dean would be a dead man, as well as everyone else in the warehouse.

"I know. I mean, I don't know. But I know enough, Cas. I hope we can get this sorted out soon. We're going to try and get you back."

Dean opened his jacket to expose his bare chest. Painted across in his own blood was a familiar sigil and there was a brief look of shock on Castiel's face - fear perhaps for Dean - as he pressed his hand upon it and sent Castiel away in a blaze of light.

And of course, Dean could hear hellhounds in the distance.

"Okay how the _fuck_ did you get out of that room?" Deak asked, turning around as he heard the door to the office open.

"I'm the King of Hell. And I don't share my secrets. Glad to see you overcame tyrant one." He eyed the shirt.

"And I thought you said you needed us."

"I _said_ \- if I recall - that I needed you and I needed your brother Sam Winchester. I couldn't really care less for your other companions." He glanced over toward the corner where Dean knew Sam had taken the others to look for an exit.  He shook his head almost sadly as he caught Natasha's dark eyes and Charlie covering her face. "Honestly, it's too easy with this group." And then Crowley was gone.

"We're not gonna help you if you kill all our damn friends!" Dean yelled.

Judging by the hellhounds getting nearer, Crowley couldn't hear him. Shit.

"Sam! Get everybody out of here! We can't hide here forever." He could hear some hounds yip shrilly. Sounded like they hit the holy water. But that would only last so long, til they moved past the bridge's salt line. Maybe a minute. And Castiel's entrance and shaking in the building probably broke their salt barriers. The others were waiting at the back entrance - Qasim cringing at the sound of the dogs while Natasha held his arm gently. They weren't about to leave the building unprepared.

"Dean. How many?" Sam sounded ragged, clearly ready for a fight.

"Maybe... I think five." Dean looked at him darkly. "Crowley wants the two of us and apparently thinks he can get us to cooperate without the others surviving."

Sam laughed darkly. "He has a point though, doesn't he. An angel tablet. It's a bribe we can't turn down."

He looked back over at Dean. All humor - acted or not - drained out of him. "Dean... If there's an angel tablet, maybe we can end this. For good. On both sides."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not giving up on anyone today." He ran over to a supply closet and pulled something out. Sam grinned.

"You made the demon bombs. You're prepared."

"Yeah... And you know what, actually, I have a better idea." Dean gritted his teeth. "Get four of the stupid moat things, let's make a salt circle."

Sam pinched his face a little and bobbed his head, raising an eyebrow. "You mean a square."

Dean looked at him as though lasers were about to beam from his eyes. Sam let it go and grabbed the others, moving the pieces they had constructed earlier to keep things out of the outer wall and instead making a space within the building as a safe zone. Or at least, as safe as they could help. They moved it into a narrow area of the building and against a wall, so anything approaching them would have to move into an encloased space.

"When Dean throws that thing, you're going to need to cover your eyes," Sam coached them. "It won't hurt us, just the hellhounds, but it's bright."

"And if we don't get all of them? Or more come?"

"More aren't going to come because Crowley doesn't actually give a shit about you," Dean said plaintively. "He's just trying to piss us off and knows we can't ignore the information he's given us."

"Gee, I feel special," Charlie muttered. But she wasn't going to complain about needing to survive _one_ day of hellhound attacks over an infinite amount of them.

"Holy shit!" Natasha nearly backed out of the salt they'd placed around them as she saw claws suddenly appear in the concrete. Sam grabbed a hold of her before she could make that mistake and she steadied herself. " _What the fuck is that_?"

No one responded, they all knew already. Knew the deep throated growls coming from apparently nothing immediately before them, and the occasional snapping sounds. Dean tensed, holding the bomb in his hand while Sam tensed his hand around the blade. Both of them stayed on either side of Natasha, Qasim, Charlie and Cassie. Wait.

Wait.

More scratches, there! There were at least two. He started raising his weapon, getting ready to throw but waiting to see if a third would show up. If they wasted these demon bombs and had more than one hellhound to deal with, they all could kiss their asses goodbye.

"Natasha - er, Niyah - what's wrong with him?" Cassie asked in horror as she looked at Qasim. Sam, Dean and Natasha turned their heads around to look at him. He looked ashen and stiff.

"He's got a phobia of dogs," Natasha groaned. "I thought he'd gotten over that years ago!"

"You didn't think it might be useful to know the dude has a phobia of dogs before going in to face a bunch of _hellhounds_?" Dean yelled as Qasim fell back a bit. But Cassie gave him a harsh look and he shut up while she supported and helped Qasim kneel down. It wasn't like they needed him to be moving right then, anyway.

"I honestly didn't remember until just now, he got over it so long ago! We've had dogs at home!"

Sam nearly stopped to point out that having dogs and getting over a phobia wasn't the same thing as having bloodthirsty, invisible dog-like monsters desperate for your blood. But now wasn't the time for discussing battle strategy. He raised his knife and moved a bit closer to the center and watched as the dogs tried to get past the square - not having much luck since their usual tactics didn't break the salt barrier as normal.

"Dean, throw the damn thing. You've got two."

He looked exasperated at the idea when he could hear perfectly well there were a few more on the way, but he gave in and hurled the demon bomb at the things scratching immediately in front of them. They had shrill, horrified noises and with a blast of light they were gone.

Unfortunately, that had messed up their little salt moat. Dean and Sam both cursed. "Get into the closet!"

Cassie and Natasha dragged Qasim who was all but passed out, breathing heavily and looking in pretty terrible condition. Sam noticed that he looked intensely embarrassed.

"Qasim, not saying we won't tease you about this later? But just remember if we survive this that I'm scared shitless of clowns and he," Sam gestured over at Dean, "Is terrified of flying."

With that, he unceremoniously pushed all three of them into the closet.

 "Ooookay," Dean pulled out his angel blade. "We're not on the list, right?" He backed up to the door. "So if we stay between them and the door they'll have to leave them alone?"

"Hellhounds are pretty good at getting what they want," Sam pointed out mildly. He didn't need to remind Dean of that - they both knew what had happened when they tried to keep one hellhound from collecting Dean. Let alone the three that were apparently coming at them at full speed - as he saw chunks of concrete and claw marks on the ground in front of them go flying.

Dean threw the second bomb straight at the oncoming hellhounds. But they didn't have the luck of enclosed spaces on their side and this time only managed to get one. The other two shrilled pained cries but weren't caught by the blast itself.

"Well, crap." Dean pulled out Castiel's angel blade and the two of them pressed up against the door behind them. Whenever Dean could smell the breath of one he took a stab with his blade. Sam was swept to the side by one's paw, getting some relatively deep lacerations. Nothing big with Cas around to heal or some stitches, but...

Sam was never a mild character though. He took the opportunity to grip the thing's neck and cut deep, slashing down. Black blood poured over him and he collapsed under his weight. So there was one for three. Dean moved himself to the center of the door and could feel breath coming at him from both sides while Sam was still trying to get out from under the mutilated, invisible thing on top of him.

Dean screamed as he got a paw to his left leg and a bite to his right arm, losing his stance and falling to get dragged away by one of the hellhounds while the other started moving around him to try and take down the closet door.

"Sam, I need your help over here!" But it was no good - Sam was only halfway out from under his hellhound.

It occurred to him that with all the dead angels over the last few years they should have tried to get an angel sword for everyone coming out on this trip. But that was something to worry about another day. He twisted around to grap the blade from his enclosed arm and stabbed the throat of his captor with as much precision as he could. Using Sam as a vicarious example, he took care to not end up _underneath_ the dead beast. He heard the others screaming and the door splintering, falling apart.

"Qasim, no!" Natasha shrieked.

Qasim was no longer silent - now there was a shrill, pained, ongoing scream, followed by those of Natasha, Charlie and Cassie. Dean looked over. The hellhound couldn't get in but Qasim, trying to protect his sister, had started trying to hit the stupid thing with his arm, tempting the damn thing with one of its targets. Unfortunately, the hellhound was not concerned about preserving Qasim the way it was about saving Dean and Sam.

Sam finally freed himself and the two of them ran over, blades out, to the closet door which was almost entirely demolished. This time they could start going at the hellhound from either side, and after one more unfortunate blow to Dean's left leg Sam managed to get a hold of the scruff of its neck and made short work of it. As the hellhound died it dropped the hold on Qasim's left arm, and Natasha rushed forward trying to help him hold the wound closed and stop the bleeding.

"I'll go get the first aid kit!" Charlie was off while Cassie and Sam worked on pulling Dean out from underneath the weight of the giant dog once again. Qasim began throwing up, while he and his sister both started crying. Cassie, too, as she and Sam finally freed Dean.

"Welcome to war," he said tiredly. "Sorry."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

When an angel was sent away by a sigil, they weren't directed to any specific place. Fortunately Castiel had not wound up on an entirely different continent, but he knew he was far away. The bloodlust was gone. He was horrified - he had been about to kill everyone in that warehouse. Not just Crowley, but Dean. Sam. The others. For no reason? No. There must have been a reason for the pain and rage.

A vague flash of an office came into his mind, but he wasn't sure what it meant, if anything.

He was glad he couldn't go back to them right away. He was worried if he could nothing would stop him from killing everyone in the warehouse. Since he wouldn't be able to find them again - not right away - he had some time to think and cope with himself outside of that urge. And it was there. Controlling, commanding. It was like an aggravated blister in his brain and eventually it would just... pop.

Castiel moved into an alley on his left hand slide and slumped against the brick wall, crumpling into a ball on the ground. He pulled out the angel blade that was not his own, held it with the blade toward him, closed his eyes, and prayed.


End file.
